Slightly Cracked
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Majorly AU story. What if Tim and Tony hadn't been forced to associate with each other as coworkers? Could they still have become friends without that? This is a story addressing that question. Be prepared for a very different setting from the series. One chapter per day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story needs some explanation. First, it's majorly AU. It is not taking place in the NCIS universe at all. I do take some elements from the show, but the way they are used is completely different. Only three characters from the series show up: Tim, Tony and Ron Sacks. A friend and I were talking about whether or not Tim and Tony could become friends if they hadn't been forced to associate with each other as coworkers first. It became a challenge to see if we could write a story that would do that when we put Tim and Tony in different situations. This is the story that resulted. It's long and still a case file of sorts but the situations are not the same at all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the NCIS characters I'm using. I'll claim my OCs but the characters are not mine and I'm not making money from this.

* * *

**Slightly Cracked?  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked."  
~ Bernard Meltzer

**Chapter 1**

Tim had been staring at his computer all day. He knew that because his alarm had gone off, telling him that it was five p.m. This paper _had_ to get done, and he wasn't done yet. If he didn't finish it, he wouldn't be ready for the conference next week. If he wasn't ready for the conference next week, he'd look like an idiot. If he looked like an idiot, good-bye tenure. This _had_ to be perfect. This time, no mistakes, no misplaced codes, no grammatical errors. Nothing that anyone could legitimately criticize. Illegitimate criticism was to be expected, but he could deal with that. It was when he actually made a mistake that he couldn't handle it.

But it was five p.m.

Still, what did he have to do if he went home? Nothing. He might as well keep working.

Except that he'd told himself he'd stop doing this.

But he _had_ to get this done.

Maybe just a little break?

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. His posture was terrible when he was typing. For some reason, no matter what he did, he always ended up hunched over the keyboard like some bird of prey, guarding its next meal.

The thought made him grin as he pictured himself as a hawk or an eagle or something, ready to strike at anyone who came close to his beloved computer.

A knock at his office door made him turn around. Student or faculty? Neither was welcome at the moment.

But his paycheck depended on keeping both happy, no matter the time of day.

"Come in."

The door opened and he relaxed a little when he saw Lewis, one of the few people he counted as a friend on campus. And he wasn't even a computer guy. He was a historian.

"Hey, Tim. Not done yet?" Lewis asked.

"Almost."

"Have you looked anywhere but the screen today?"

"I'm pretty sure I ate something for lunch," Tim said. "Whenever that was."

"You weren't going to do that anymore."

"After I have tenure."

"You'll always find an excuse if you start that way."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy who already has tenure."

"It's Friday night. You have a week. You're almost done. Take a break."

"And do what?"

Now, Lewis got a wheedling expression on his face.

"I don't even want to _know_ what you're going to suggest," Tim said. He turned back to his computer.

"Come to a party with me, Tim."

Tim turned around and laughed.

"I don't go to parties, Lewis."

"Don't you think it's time you started?"

"Nope."

"Come on, Tim. It's been over a year."

The eyebrow went up again. "Since when do you get to dictate how long I get?"

"I don't, but you promised yourself, not me. You said you weren't going to let yourself get holed up with a computer. You weren't going to let this become all your life is."

The eyebrow went up even higher.

"This isn't about altruism," Tim said. "I can tell. You don't want to go to this party, do you."

Lewis sat down on the hard, wooden chair Tim kept in his office to discourage long visits from students. If they had legitimate questions, he cleared off the comfy seat that was always piled with papers. If it was to argue about a grade, he let them sit on the hard one. They'd tried to get him to replace the old chair. It was from the early years of the university and he had argued that it was historic. When they had renovated his office, he had taken the old chair with him until they were done and put it back in afterward. He allowed for one comfy, padded seat, but he kept this one.

Lewis didn't deserve the comfy seat.

"I have to go and I'd like to have someone come along who can get me out of it early."

"I don't need to be there with you to do that. Use me as an excuse if you want."

Tim turned back to his computer again.

"No, they'll expect that. I need you to be there. Then, I can say that my friend doesn't like crowds and we're leaving early."

"Oh, great. So now, I'm just going to be your whipping boy, huh? Count me a hundred percent out."

"No, Tim. I wouldn't be announcing it to the whole room. Just...to my dean. Quietly. When I've been there long enough to show that I care about collegiality."

Tim turned around.

"Your dean is throwing a party and he invited you?"

"Yeah. My dean seems to think that people love spending time with him. Maybe outside of the university they do, but inside, well... Quite frankly, I get enough of him at school, but if I'm going to make full professor some day, I have to show up."

Tim sighed.

"When is this party?"

"It starts in three hours. You have time to go home, relax for a bit, eat some dinner..."

"How long will I have to be there?"

"No more than an hour."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die. By the way, did you know that the first recorded usage of that phrase showed up in 1908?" Lewis loved historical trivia.

"No." Tim sighed again. "All right. You're driving which means you can't drink and I'm leaving after an hour whether you come with me or not."

Lewis smiled. "Thanks a million."

"Thanks ten million with the exchange rate," Tim said, grimacing.

"Oh? What country are you in?"

"Somewhere wealthier than you, Mr. Historian."

"You and your microchips need people like me around and you love it. See you in three hours."

Lewis got up and left the office. Tim cracked his neck and stretched again. It was true that he had said that he wasn't going to let this become all his life was. It had never been what he wanted. That was why he had chosen to pursue a university position rather than pure research. But after last year... well, human interaction wasn't necessarily all it was cracked up to be.

But if he was going to do this, he needed to go home and get something to eat and prepare himself for a crowded, noisy evening. Not his favorite thing in the world. Not even in the best of times...which this most definitely wasn't.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Remind me again why I'm going to a party that I wasn't invited to?" Tony asked his partner.

"Because you need to get more of a feel for the important people in the area. This guy is a dean at the university, and he has a lot of important friends," Clark said.

"Okay. That only makes it sound more exclusive."

"Yeah, but I've been invited to be unofficial security and if I bring you along, you're unofficial security, too."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Is that really necessary?"

"Probably not, but it doesn't hurt. We don't interfere unless he asks us to or unless something goes _really_ wrong."

"What qualifies as really wrong? Someone starts shooting?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "Yeah, DiNozzo. Someone shooting _would _be really wrong. Are you sure you're qualified to be a detective?"

"Very funny. If I keep asking dumb questions, does that get me out of this?"

Clark grinned. "Nope. Just means more of them. Besides, you get paid for coming."

Tony smiled back. "There is that. Well, at least I have the clothes for it."

"Yeah. You're way too well-dressed to be a cop. What's with that?"

"You never get a second chance to make a good first impression," Tony recited.

"Oh, please. Come in and don't flirt with the guy's wife. He wouldn't appreciate it."

"Point her out to me and I'll make sure to avoid her, but I never flirt with married women."

"Nice to know that something holds you back."

They got out of the car and headed into the luxury hotel in downtown Baltimore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tim took a deep breath and looked out of the window to see where they were headed.

"Tim, it's not a big deal, remember?" Lewis said.

"Not a big deal for you. It is for me."

"Well, this will help it not be such a big deal."

"Yeah. Maybe," Tim said.

They pulled up in front of the hotel and got out. Lewis gave his invitation to the valet who gave him a ticket for parking.

"Well? Where is this party?" Tim muttered.

"Out on the pool deck, looking over the harbor. It should be pretty amazing."

"Right."

"Stop thinking about it, Tim. You'll be happier."

Tim looked at him with irritation.

"If I had that much control over it..." he began, heatedly.

"Sorry, sorry. That's not what I meant. I just meant that you shouldn't dwell on it. I know you don't control all that. Come on."

Lewis propelled him forward and they were conducted out into a huge pool area. There was a bar on one side, an infinity pool right in front of them, cabanas, lights on each corner of the pool. Music was playing. ...and there were a _lot_ of people.

"How much would something like this cost?" Tim asked in a low voice. "Just the hotel is expensive, I'm sure. Then, reserving the entire pool area?"

"I have no idea. Lots."

"How in the world is he affording this? I mean, sure, he's the dean but still! It's not like that's a millionaire position."

"Well, apparently, his wife is really rich. Her dad founded some company and she's his only daughter."

"Ah. So the party is really his wife, not him."

"I'm pretty sure he likes it, too," Lewis said and then walked forward.

Tim followed behind, not happy about being here where there would probably be some famous people, lots of wealthy people and no one he really wanted to talk to. He watched as Lewis smiled and greeted the dean and his wife. Then, he suppressed a grimace as Lewis turned to him.

"And this is my friend Tim McGee. He's an assistant professor in the computer science department," he said, gesturing for Tim to come closer.

Tim walked over and plastered a smile on his face.

"Hi," he said. "Thanks for including me."

"A friend of Lewis is a friend of mine. I'm David Farland and this is my wife Juliette."

Tim shook their hands.

"Welcome," Juliette said with just a touch of an accent. "We're glad to have you."

"Thanks," Tim said.

"Assistant?" David asked. "When are you up for tenure?"

"This year," Tim said.

"He's presenting at the Real World Crypto Symposium next week," Lewis said. "And last year, he presented at the International Cryptology Conference."

"Congratulations and good luck. I'd ask you to tell me what you're doing but I'm sure I wouldn't get it," David said, laughing.

_Probably not_, Tim thought, but he chuckled politely.

"Have a good time," David said. Then, he clearly moved on from them and waved to someone else. "Eric! Nice to see you!"

Lewis took the opportunity to drag Tim over to the bar.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" Tim asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think that he doesn't really want to be the dean. He wants to be something more important."

"Probably." Lewis looked at the bartender and then seemed to remember that he wasn't drinking. "Oh, I'd better not have anything alcoholic."

"You'd better not. I'm not driving you home or riding with you if you've had a drop," Tim said, severely.

Lewis just smiled.

"What do you have that's not alcoholic?" he asked the bartender.

"We actually have a few choices. I have a nice twist on a Cape Codder. It's called the Distinguished Guest."

"Sounds good. That's what I am. I'll have that."

"And you, sir?" he asked Tim.

"I don't need anything," Tim said.

"Yes, you do. It'll help you relax a little," Lewis said. "_You're_ not driving."

Tim shrugged. "Just a glass of white wine, then."

"Can do. We have a very nice Jadot le Montrachet."

"That's fine," Tim said, not really caring.

They got their drinks and then started walking through the crowds.

"You're not happy being here, are you," Lewis said.

"No, I'm not," Tim said. "But I can handle it. For an hour."

"I know. I have to go and talk to a few people, make sure that they know I'm here. You want to tag along?"

"No. Not at all," Tim said.

"Okay. If I don't come back over after an hour, come and get me."

"Okay," Tim said.

Lewis patted him on the shoulder and then walked over and Tim watched as he started talking to someone else from the university. Tim turned away and stared out at the harbor. It was a good view, but he still didn't want to be here. Not one bit. He found a place on the deck that was basically empty. There were a few lounge chairs facing the harbor and he sat down, choosing to look out over the water instead of at the people.

He took a long drink and had to admit that the wine was good. Then, he looked at his watch. Fifty-five minutes to go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony had done his share of hobnobbing in the past, but he was interested in how many obviously wealthy and important people were here. He mingled and chatted, having nothing more than sparkling water. Not his preference, especially when he could see the high quality drinks available, but he was kind of on the clock and he wouldn't jeopardize his position or the reputation of the Baltimore police by getting buzzed or even just a little tipsy.

Clark was talking to one of the security people who were always on hand at the hotel, but Tony didn't have much to do. People weren't getting drunk. They weren't doing drugs (at least not obviously). They were just talking and doing some dancing. Even the pool was empty.

What a boring party.

_Of course, an exciting party would mean I'd be busy. This isn't so bad,_ Tony thought to himself.

Then, he looked over and saw a man sitting all by himself, a glass of wine in his hand. He was facing the harbor. Why come to a party and sit alone? Seemed odd to Tony, so he casually walked over to investigate. Sure, he didn't need to intervene at the moment, but if the guy was drunk, he could stop anything serious before it started.

"This seat taken?" he asked, pleasantly.

"Does it like it look like it is?" the man retorted and finished off his wine.

"How many drinks have _you_ had?" Tony asked.

"Just this one. I don't get drunk, if that's what you're worried about."

"Never?" Tony asked skeptically.

The man turned at looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Never," he said, firmly. "Getting drunk leads to a loss of control, a loss of intellect, and often a loss of respect. I see nothing worthwhile in that."

Then, he turned back to the harbor.

"So you don't seem to be a party guy."

"What gave you your first clue?" the man asked, sounding irritated.

"Well, the fact that you're responding to pleasant questions as if I'd insulted you and your whole family. That was my first clue...well, actually my second. My first is that you're sitting in pretty much the only place where there aren't any people, and that's an achievement here."

"Look, I don't need to have someone show pity for me. I'm sitting here alone because that's where I want to be."

"Well, what do you do? Another academic? There sure are a lot of them running around here tonight. I didn't think you smart guys had time to party. Aren't you too busy in the libraries or at your computers to do something like this?"

"What does it matter?"

"It doesn't. I'm just curious. Are you?"

There was a pause.

"Yes."

"Let me see if I can guess your area," Tony said.

"Why?"

"I'm practicing."

"Whatever."

"So you're all alone at a social event. You put off kind of a geeky vibe. You're not particularly fashionably dressed. Appropriate but not fashionable. You sure do have a big chip on your shoulder. I've heard that being a professor and keeping your job can be stressful." He reached out and grabbed the man's wrist, not firmly and flipped it over to see his hands.

"Hey!" The man pulled his hand back, instantly.

"And no callouses on the hands, so you probably don't do real work. Must be a computer guy. Not used to real human interaction. Probably a whiz with those computer programs, but people... not so much. Am I right?"

The man looked at his watch, glared at Tony and then stood up.

"Excuse me. It's time for me to leave," he said.

"Wait! Am I right?" Tony asked again.

The man stopped and turned around.

"Who I am and what I do is not your business or anyone else's, but I can guess who you are and I have no intention of committing a crime. So leave me alone."

Tony was surprised but also vaguely impressed. He caught up with the man one more time.

"If you're right, and I'm not saying you are, what gave me away?"

The man stopped and looked at him for a long moment, and Tony saw something else in his expression that made him started to reevaluate his initial impression of someone who was simply rude.

"You noticed me and asked questions. I don't usually get noticed if I don't want to be...and I don't. Not anymore."

"Tim! There you are! I'm ready to get out."

The man turned away from Tony and toward a much more friendly-looking man.

"Yeah, Lewis. I was ready an hour ago," he said and actually sounded simply grumpy.

"Ha. This was good for you and you know it. I've already said my good-byes, so let's just get out of here and you can go home."

"Okay." They started to leave, but then, the man paused and turned back. "Am I right?" he asked Tony.

Tony grinned.

"Am I?"

There was a grudging smile. "Dr. Tim McGee. Ph.D. in Computer Science, emphasis in cybersecurity and cryptology."

"Detective Tony DiNozzo of the Baltimore Police Department. Incognito."

Tim suddenly looked wary, but he nodded and then walked away.

"Hey, talk about coincidences."

Tony turned and saw Clark looking after the two men.

"What?"

"That guy is the reason you have a job."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Just over a year ago. Benedict, your predecessor, was out doing some undercover thing. That guy got in the way and it ended with Benedict dead. We checked him out and there wasn't anything to show it was intentional. Just an incompetent egghead screwing up an investigation and getting people killed."

"Oh. What was the case Benedict was investigating?"

"I don't know. It was one of those secret things and I wasn't in on it. Obviously, it got ruined by what happened. So whatever it was didn't pan out."

"Right."

Tony looked after the departing duo and thought it was no wonder Tim had looked wary. He probably thought Tony knew who he was. But it figured that a guy smart enough to have a doctorate in computer science wouldn't be smart enough to stay out of the way of a takedown. Smart guys survived doing dumb things while the cops took the flak.

"Anyway. Exciting work?"

"Yeah. Sure, compared to the local library during children's reading hour."

Clark chuckled. "Easy pay, though. That's why I'm willing to do this. It's dumb that we're here, but we get a little extra money and that's never a bad thing."

"Yeah. That's not bad."

"Well, back at it."

Clark walked away and continued his casual patrol. Tony figured Clark was doing way more than he needed, but whatever. He was much more intrigued by the coincidence that had led to him meeting someone who had been there when his predecessor had been killed. He hadn't known Benedict at all. In fact, he'd transferred to Baltimore from Peoria to take the position. So he hadn't known any of it. He just knew that he'd taken the place of a cop who had been killed and he had made sure to tread lightly until he felt that he could be himself without irritating anyone unduly.

Maybe he'd check out the case file. It might be interesting.

For now... He looked at his empty glass.

Maybe another sparkling water.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Thanks for doing that, Tim. I really appreciate it."

"Good," Tim said and just stared out his window.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Just some guy who thought a person sitting alone was lonely," Tim said, not wanting to reveal the fact that he'd been talking to a cop. That would only make Lewis worry again.

"Nice of him to talk to you."

"I wasn't interested."

"Tim, you don't have to suspect every person you meet."

"I don't."

"Or every other person."

"I don't."

"Tim."

"Just take me home, Lewis. That's all I want right now."

"You're not going to go back to your office and work?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

It was true. While that had been his initial plan, right now, he had no desire to be anywhere but home. Home. Alone. By himself.

Tim said nothing more until they pulled up in front of his building. He opened the door and got out.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. See ya later, Lewis."

"Tomorrow?"

"It's Saturday."

"And you'll be in your office, won't you?"

"I have a paper to finish."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Lunchtime. No arguments."

Tim smiled. "Okay. Tomorrow."

"Good."

He closed the car door and went up to his apartment, making sure it didn't look like he was hurrying. As soon as he got inside, he breathed a sigh of relief and flopped down on his couch. Then, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tony's curiosity got the best of him and he got into work early on Saturday and pulled up the case file from the Benedict case. He started reading, but he didn't get very far before he had his first interruption.

"Tony, what are you doing here already? We don't even have any major cases calling our names right now," Clark said. "After the late night, I'd have thought you'd be a little later this morning, not earlier."

Tony looked up.

"I got curious."

"About what?"

"The case you told me about. I decided to read up on it."

Clark sat down and looked serious for a moment.

"Hey, I don't blame you for wanting to know, but keep it quiet that you're looking at it."

"Why?" Tony asked, his brow furrowing.

"Because people around here were really riled up. In fact, that's not the entire file. The FBI got called in to finish it and they'll have the whole thing."

"Why the FBI? Was Benedict's stuff that sensitive?"

"Not as far as I know. No, it was because of how the guys here reacted. When they pulled that McGee guy in for questioning, Archer lost it."

"Lost it? How bad?" Tony asked.

Clark lowered his voice. "As in, there was physical contact. He would have beat the guy to a pulp if he hadn't been held back. As it was, he got in a few swings before the others got in there to stop him. Honestly, we thought that we'd have a lawsuit at best and an accusation of assault at worst. Archer was way over the line, but Benedict had been his partner for years. He was really upset."

"No excuse for beating a guy up, especially in interrogation."

"I know. I know. That's when the FBI got called in to finish things up. It could have been just another district called in, but with how bad Archer was, the higher-ups decided to just get it out of our hands completely. That's why I'm telling you not to start talking about it too loudly here. We don't need anyone getting riled up again. I thought Archer might _really _lose it when the FBI decided not to pursue any charges against McGee, but they probably did him a favor. Any halfway decent lawyer would have got the charges dismissed just on the basis of what Archer did to him."

Tony looked at the computer screen and then back at Clark.

"What do _you_ know about it?"

"Not much. I was pretty new myself when Benedict was killed. I transferred over here from another district. But I saw how bad it was, and I don't like seeing smart guys turn their brains off."

Tony laughed a little. "Right. Okay, well, I know how to keep things to myself."

"Good. And I'll give you twenty minutes before it's time to do your real job."

Tony grinned. "Gotcha."

Clark got up and left Tony to his reading.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim got up early on Saturday and went to his office. If he was up early, he didn't have to see as many people. It wasn't that he couldn't handle it. After all, he was a professor. He spoke to students every day, but some parts of society made him more than nervous. They made him scared. So he tried to make sure that he wasn't in the public eye very much. What he was doing could be translated to public acclaim, but that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to have his job secure so that he didn't have to worry about going through this process again. In fact, before the last year, he'd been on the verge of trying to get a novel published...under a pseudonym of course. But he had given up on that, choosing not to try something that, if successful, would simply put him into the public eye. He was still writing, but just for himself.

But he did want to finish this paper. In fact, he really wanted the whole conference to be done so he could stop worrying about it.

That was why he got to his office just after six a.m., put on some jazz music and started writing with no expectation of interruption.

There were no shocks here. What he was working on didn't require anything dangerous. It didn't require him to do anything but write code and analyze code and show that all his code worked. That was it. No one's life depended on it. That was why he had retreated to it so much in the last year, to the point that he had gone an entire week during the summer without speaking to a single person. It hadn't been a conscious decision. It had just happened and he wasn't teaching, so there were no students trying to get his attention.

That had been when Lewis noticed and pushed him evaluate his life and what he wanted from it. Tim had concluded that he _didn't_ want his life to be made up of just computers and codes. It was tempting, but it really wasn't what he wanted. That being the case, he had to make sure he got out sometimes.

Whether he wanted to or not.

For now, he'd mostly recovered from the stress of the night before. He was a little irritated at the dismissive attitude of the cop he'd spoken to, but at least he hadn't said anything about Tim's previous interaction with the police. He knew what the Baltimore Police Department thought of him. He'd heard them say it. He still had a few small scars demonstrating their feelings. He started to tense up at the memory of that day.

Quickly, Tim took deep breaths to calm himself down again. No, he didn't need to think about that. It was in the past and it wouldn't happen again. He could just keep on as he had been and nothing would change. Nothing needed to change. Things could stay as they were.

A few more deep breaths and he could focus on the computer screen and start typing. Just the paper. That was all he needed to do. Just the paper.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Halfway through the morning, Tony had some time on his hands and, after making sure no one else was around who might get upset, he brought up the case file again.

John Benedict had years of experience as a detective and had excelled at undercover work. And yet, whatever he'd been working on had been a secret. From everyone. That wasn't how undercover generally worked. What had he been doing? Apparently, the FBI hadn't figured it out, either, but because of Benedict's death and the fact that they'd never found any notes about what he'd been doing, they'd simply relied on what they could find at the scene. And what they had found was Tim McGee. He had claimed to be walking by the alley where the shooting had occurred and had seen Benedict talking loudly with someone. He had got involved and there had been gunfire which had left Benedict dead. Tim had claimed that he hadn't known what was going on, just an altercation that he had thought he might be able to break up by being a witness.

What he'd done was distract Benedict and get him killed. A quick read made it seem pretty simple, but the more Tony read about it, the weirder it seemed.

What expert undercover cop told _no one_ about what he was doing, not even his partner? What expert undercover cop would have no evidence of what he was doing? What expert undercover cop would confront someone with no backup? Everything that Benedict had done seemed to fly in the face of his many years of experience. It made no sense.

Then, when he turned his attention to the other known participant, things didn't get any clearer. What random passerby would leap into a situation in a dark alley? Maybe some self-defense expert or another cop. Having met Tim McGee, Tony had his doubts that his automatic reaction would be to get physically involved. Would he call the police? Possibly, but to insert himself actually into the fight didn't seem to fit. What unarmed computer nerd would try to interfere in an armed confrontation? And who had the fight been with? There was a third person missing from this whole scenario...unless Tim McGee had been the one to kill Benedict himself. However, if that was right, why would he do it? What would the point be? And the investigation didn't seem to indicate that Tim had been even considered as a possible suspect. Tony couldn't help but wonder why.

And as Clark had said, the file wasn't complete. Well, he could remedy that. Tony smiled to himself. He had a few people he knew at the FBI. They didn't like him much but he knew them. It sounded like a perfect lunch break.

Plans now made, he closed the file and refocused on his real job.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a knock at the door, and Tim knew his door was locked. He ignored the knock, thinking that the person would just go away.

Another knock. No such luck.

"Tim! It's noon! Open the door!"

Tim sighed and turned around. He appreciated Lewis trying to help him out, but sometimes, he was just a little too concerned. Still, he _had _said he'd do lunch. He reached out and opened the door.

"Lewis, I'm almost done. Give me ten minutes. I'm just writing up my conclusions."

"Okay."

Instead of leaving, Lewis just sat down on the hard, wooden chair.

"I'm not going to sneak out or anything," Tim said. "You could wait somewhere else."

"I know. But I'll wait here. I won't say a word. I'll just act like a student and stare at my phone."

Tim suppressed a sigh and turned back around. He refocused on his monitor. There wasn't much left to do. He really was almost done. With a draft anyway. He wrote out the final sentences summarizing his presentation. It took just over ten minutes, Tim was gratified to see. He was tempted to pretend he was still working and test Lewis' patience, but he didn't. Instead, he saved his file in three places and then turned around and raised his eyebrow.

Lewis was looking at his phone as he had promised.

"Yeah, you look like my students," Tim said said. "Maybe a little older."

Lewis looked up and grinned. "Well, I was at least looking at pictures of my kids. They're at their grandparents' house this weekend and my mom was sending me some pictures of them having a blast doing fingerpainting." He turned his phone around. "See?"

Tim looked at the pictures and smiled.

"Cute."

"Ready for lunch?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Come on, Tim. Let's go."

Tim nodded and they left his office.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't care," Tim said.

"You always say that, but I know you do."

"I don't care enough to pick," Tim said.

"All right. You okay with just going to the student union building, then? Not everything is open in the summer, but..."

"Yeah, that's fine," Tim said, but his mind wasn't really on lunch. He was looking off campus. It really wasn't very far from here that...

"You okay with soup and salad?"

"Yeah," Tim said. He'd never felt unsafe on campus or even off campus. Until...

"Tim!"

Tim took a breath and pulled his mind back to the present.

"Yeah?"

"You know... I know you don't like to hear this, but maybe..."

"I should talk to someone about it. No. It's fine."

"Except that it isn't and we both know it. Tim, you saw a man die. That's not something you can just throw off, and you're obviously not."

"I'm not pretending that I am. It's just going to take time," Tim said.

"It's been over a year."

"I know. It'll just take time," Tim said again.

Time and not ever having to come in contact with the police again in his lifetime. Logically, he knew that not all cops were like that. Logically, he knew that not even the majority were like that. But the plain fact of the matter was that he had been completely at the detective's mercy and if someone hadn't come into the room and stopped him, Tim knew he would have had a lot worse to deal with than he had.

They got to the student center and Lewis led them to his chosen café. Tim really didn't have a preference, but he knew that Lewis did, and he didn't care if Lewis chose where they went. He could get soup and salad...and a coffee refill.

They got their food and sat down. Since it was the summer, they had their pick of places, and very few students were there. All the better.

"Tim, you want to join Janice and me for dinner on Sunday?"

Tim shook his head. "No. You're getting the weekend alone, and you don't get that very often. I don't need to have company all the time, Lewis."

"You don't."

"No, I don't," Tim said. "And I don't need it. I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Tim," Lewis said, seriously. "You were so far from all right last night, I was actually worried when I dropped you off. After a year, I wouldn't necessarily expect you to be over it, but I would expect you to be able to be out in public for an hour without nearly having a meltdown."

"I didn't have a meltdown," Tim said.

"I didn't say you did. I said you nearly did."

Tim hadn't ever told anyone about what had happened at the police station. He had simply taken some time off and even Lewis had assumed that the injuries were from the actual event, not from the police afterward. He hadn't said anything then and he had no interest in saying anything now.

"Lewis, you are not my father and you are not a psychiatrist. I'm fine! I'm tired of repeating myself!"

He got to his feet and walked away, leaving most of his lunch uneaten. He hurried back to his office and sat down at his computer, taking deep, calming breaths. He knew that he shouldn't have yelled at Lewis. It was wrong of him when Lewis was just concerned.

After a few minutes, there was another knock on his door. Tim knew who it would be. He didn't want to answer, but he knew he should.

"Come in," he said softly.

Lewis opened the door and held out a sack.

"You left your lunch," he said.

"Thanks," Tim said and took the sack. He stared at it without looking up.

There was a long pause, just long enough that Tim thought Lewis might just leave.

"You want to talk about it?"

"You already know about it," Tim said.

"I don't think I do. I think there's something else."

"No," Tim said, but it was a weak denial and they both knew it.

Lewis moved Tim's omnipresent pile of paper off the comfy chair and sat down.

"What is it, Tim?" he asked.

"Nothing...that I want to talk about."

Lewis actually laughed a little.

"That doesn't surprise me in the least, but this is not like you. Something changed you in the last year and not for the better. I've been thinking it was all just what you saw, but there's something else. Isn't there."

It wasn't really a question. Tim still didn't feel like he could admit to everything, but he could admit to something more.

"Yeah."

"What?"

"When the police were questioning me at the station, a couple of days after..."

Tim stopped. He'd never said the words out loud and he was both afraid of saying them and afraid that Lewis would look on his reaction as way out of proportion to his experience.

"What, Tim?"

"The detective who was asking the questions, he got upset."

"Okay..."

Tim glanced up at Lewis and just saw a confused look on his face. No wonder. A cop being upset didn't seem to be an explanation. He took a deep breath and looked back down.

"He didn't like what I told him and... he hit me."

"What?"

"He punched me, knocked me off the chair and then picked me up and slammed me against the wall. He was shouting about how...I got the other detective killed, it was my fault and he'd make me pay. He would have, but... some other guys came in and held him back. I had to get stitches, and I was bleeding. When I left, no one else touched me, but I could see it in their eyes. They all wanted me dead. They thought I deserved to die because I got the detective killed."

"Tim... I..."

"All I wanted was to get home, to get away from all those people who thought I deserved to die. I don't know if... if I'd even dare call the police if I needed help with anything. Once they knew who I was..."

"Tim, I never heard anything about that, not in the news or anything."

"That's because I never told anyone. I got an official apology from the district, but I never said a word. I didn't want to make more trouble."

"Make more trouble?" Lewis repeated incredulously. "You didn't make any trouble at all! They're the ones who made trouble! I can't believe you didn't at least make sure that detective got charged with assault or something."

Tim shook his head and looked up. "No. I don't want that, and you're not going to say anything, either."

"Tim!"

"No! It's been a year, and I decided not to say anything back then. I'm not going to attract attention to myself now."

"I just thought it was from that guy getting killed. Tim, this is..."

"It's nothing," Tim said. "I'm better than I was. I'll keep getting better. That's it."

"No, Tim. It shouldn't be. This is wrong and you know it's wrong."

"Just leave it, Lewis. It's over. It's in the past and I'd rather just leave it there. There's no reason for it to ever come up again."

"It's your choice, but it's the wrong one, Tim, and you know it," Lewis said. He stood up. "Enjoy your lunch."

"Thanks."

Lewis walked out and Tim took a deep breath and then sighed. This was exactly why he'd never said anything before. He knew that no one would agree that his choice to say nothing was the right one.

...but they didn't know the whole story, and he no intention of opening himself up for even more problems by explaining it.

He looked at the sandwich and coffee. They didn't seem appetizing right now, but he knew he should eat lunch. So he ate.

Then, he went back to the computer, the one thing that made complete sense to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"_Okay, DiNozzo. Why in the world are you calling me this time?"_

"Because I missed your dulcet tones, Sacks," Tony said, grinning at the grumpy voice.

"_Dulcet tones? Right. What do you want?"_

"I just need to get a case file. It's curiosity, I admit, but I could do this the official route and still get it."

"_Then, why aren't you instead of calling me on my lunch break?"_

"It's my lunch break, too."

"_That's your fault. Not mine."_

"Oh, Sacks, I always forget how much I dislike you."

"_Why are you doing this, then?"_

"Because I like having someone I can call on in the FBI. And you keep it up because you like having someone _you_ can call on in local law enforcement. Believe it or not, I'm actually trying to be tactful."

"_Not with me, you aren't."_

"Not with you. With my department. I've been looking at the case that opened up my job here and I've been told that people are still pretty touchy about it. So I'm asking for the file from you so that I don't get anyone's nose bent out of shape. ...except maybe yours. But so far as I know, nothing is classified. It's just a regular case."

"_Then, why are you looking at it?"_

"Because some things don't seem to add up and I want to know if the full case file will clear it up for me or not."

"_Okay. What's the case?"_

"Murder of Detective John Benedict. Just over a year ago. No suspects. Dr. Timothy McGee was an eyewitness and was blamed for getting in the way of an undercover operation."

A pause.

"_Oh, I remember that one."_

"You worked it?" Tony asked, almost eager. He was ready to discard his usual barbs if Sacks had been the one on the case.

"_Nope. But it made the rounds. A seasoned detective losing it and trying to beat up a witness is something that we talk about."_

"Yeah."

"_Not a great day for the local LEOs."_

Sacks sounded almost gleeful about it, actually.

"You don't need to be so happy about it."

"_I'm not, but I can't deny that it's nice to see you guys actually getting yourselves in trouble occasionally. You really lucked out with the guy that got beat up."_

"Hey, this didn't have anything to do with me. I wasn't even here, remember?"

"_Yeah, whatever. I remember seeing the witness at the FBI. He was terrified. He was really messed up by what that detective did to him, more than by seeing the detective get killed. I swear that he looked like he expected one of us to beat him up next, and by what I heard, he didn't deserve any blame at all."_

"Really? What I heard was that he interfered in the operation. Not meaning to, but he still got in the way."

"_That's not the way I heard it, but I haven't read the file, either."_

"Well? Will you get me the file? I'll even admit to owing you one for it."

"_Yeah, sure. I'll do it. Your email at the district still the same?"_

"Yeah."

"_Okay. I'll get it to you today. Now, leave me alone so I can eat my lunch."_

"Will do. Enjoy your sandwich."

"_Leftover Thai. Nothing so exciting as a sandwich."_

"Sounds like you need to find someone who would tolerate you and get married, Sacks," Tony said.

"_Do you want the file or not, DiNozzo?"_

"I do."

"_Then, maybe stop with the logorrhea."_

"What?"

"_Diarrhea of the mouth. You don't know how to stop talking."_

"It gets me results, most of the time."

"_Uh-huh. Bye."_

"Bye."

Tony hung up and grinned to himself. Needling Sacks was enjoyable _and_ with this little deal they had going on, he also got information he wouldn't get otherwise. A win-win situation as far as he was concerned. And since Sacks got information _he_ wouldn't get otherwise, it worked out quite well for both of them.

In spite of the fact that they hated each other.

With that thought, Tony pulled out his own lunch and ate quickly so that he wouldn't be late.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim felt bad about alienating Lewis, but he also felt that he had to stick to his guns about not reporting what had happened. For months after, he would have sworn that someone was watching him. He'd never said anything to anyone, especially not to the police, but it had made him a little paranoid. In fact, he had wondered if the police _were_ the ones watching him. The feeling had faded after a while, but he had never gone back to the alley where it had happened. He almost never went out at night, and he avoided the police like the plague. The FBI hadn't been too bad when they had questioned him, but he hadn't liked them, either. Too many were staring at him and he couldn't help but wonder how many wanted him dead like the cops had.

He set aside all that and focused on his computer. He could always abstract himself from reality by focusing on the computer.

That was all he did for the rest of the day. Just working on refining and revising his paper now that he'd finished a draft. Lewis didn't come by again, and Tim knew it was because he was irritated.

In the evening, Tim finally forced himself to shut down his computer (after saving his paper in multiple places and printing out a hard copy to take home with him) and then he packed up to leave. As he walked out of his building, he looked across toward the edge of campus, the direction he never walked anymore. He never went that direction, never came even close to where the shooting had happened.

Maybe that was what he needed to do. Maybe he just needed to walk over there and see that there was nothing in that space anymore.

Maybe.

He looked over that direction.

But not today.

He shook his head and walked to his car and then drove home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony got home, ordered some pizza and then pulled up the case file he'd received from Sacks. He was really hoping for some clarity on the case. Normally, he didn't get so wound up in a case, especially not one he hadn't even worked on. He wasn't known for making random cases personal. This wasn't his case. It had nothing to do with him.

...except that he had this job because of it.

...and he'd met the other victim, and the more he learned, the more Tim McGee seemed like a victim rather than someone deserving of blame.

...and without things adding up correctly, he couldn't bring himself to forget about it. It had too many effects spreading outward from that moment.

So, with his box of pizza open beside his computer, he began reading through the case file while he ate. There were three bullets that had hit Benedict, only one being fatal. The bullets had been so hashed that none of them could be traced to a particular gun on the market. The bullets had been kept in case technology got to the point that some identifying marks could be pulled from them.

He pulled up the photos of the crime scene and furrowed his brow. The location of Benedict's body was interesting. The alley wasn't large. It was quite small actually, and there were lights but it appeared that only one was functioning. There was a note that the security camera was also not working during the crime, meaning no video evidence. Had it been tampered with? Tony skimmed through, looking for that information, but it appeared that it was more likely that the camera hadn't been working for quite some time and it simply was a coincidence.

Or was it?

He flipped through until he found Tim's account of what had happened.

As he read through it, some things just didn't quite jive. The way Tim had described it was as if he had witnessed it all from the sidewalk, as if he had just walked by, but the level of detail didn't fit with a dark alley. The number of shots, the color of the vehicle in the alley, the placement of Benedict relative to the vehicle. These were not details that one would expect from someone who was just passing by and then was shocked by the altercation.

And speaking of the altercation, Tim had not really been specific about what had drawn his attention. If the cops were blaming him for interrupting, then, the gunshots couldn't be what had attracted his attention. If there was some kind of physical fight, then, what about the vehicle? If it had just been verbal, what had they been saying?

All in all, Tony was finding more questions than answers in getting the full file. And why had no one else asked these questions? He couldn't help wondering if the fact that Tim had been beat up had something to do with it, some kind of attempt to get it out of the way quickly before the press got wind of it. There was a note in the FBI file about Tim's injuries.

Then, he found one memo that more or less answered his questions about why no one had asked the questions. It was an internal memo wherein they questioned Tim's answers on the basis of his obvious fear of the police after the assault by Detective Archer. They had assumed that Tim was trying to give the answers he thought they _wanted_ rather than what he had actually seen, and since almost nothing he'd said could be verified, it was easy to dismiss it. It was an easy conclusion to come to if Tim had been as rattled as they implied he was.

But Tony was questioning that. The details Tim had given weren't the kind of details that were inconsistent, as someone fearfully making something up would likely be. They were consistent and fit together. The only reason they didn't all fit was because of how Tim said he had come upon the scene.

What if he'd been there the whole time? Why? Tony had no idea, but what if he hadn't just _happened_ to wander into that alley?

Then, Tony pulled up a map of Baltimore and marked where the alley had been. It was relatively close to the university campus, but would Tim have any legitimate reason to be there late at night?

All in all, Tony coming out of this with more questions than answers and he didn't like that. He started writing down everything that he wanted to check, every problematic part of the case. If Clark was right, he'd have to be careful about who he talked to at the district, but maybe he could sweet-talk Germaine. She'd been willing to respond to his flirting in the past. She might be willing to let him see the interrogation video and see exactly what Archer had done to Tim...and she might be willing to keep it to herself, too. That was something to try on Monday.

Tony was also finding that he really wanted to talk to Tim about this case, see what he had to say a year later, but at the same time, now that he knew what Tim had gone through, he really didn't want to put Tim on his guard without knowing if he could clear stuff up with his own clandestine investigation. Then, he could confront Tim with everything he already knew and could see if Tim would change anything that he'd said once he knew that there was already something different about the situation.

It sounded like a good idea to Tony, and it meant that he could take his time and get this done right...without anyone else knowing about it.

He finished off half the pizza, put all his notes away and then decided to wrap up his day with a movie. He thought about which movie to watch. Considering what he was doing right now, he needed a police drama. He smiled to himself and pulled out _The Usual Suspects._ Even though he knew the ending by heart now, he didn't mind. It was fun seeing how many clues he could detect throughout the movie that led up to the revelation about Keyser Soze.

Perfect.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

For Tim, the weekend passed in blissful, simple solitude. He didn't work on his paper on Sunday, but he spent his day in his apartment, not doing much with his time. He sat with his computer parts and started to build a computer from scratch. It was always relaxing for him. A little bit of a challenge and something he just had always enjoyed. He even got out his soldering kit and started making repairs to an old, fried-out motherboard. It wasn't for any particular purpose. It was just to pass the time because, after recounting what had happened to Lewis on Saturday and the stress of the party on Friday night, he didn't want to face the added stress of going outside and being with people.

He knew he needed to go grocery shopping soon, but he didn't feel up to facing the Sunday crowds this time. There was a grocery store nearby that opened very early in the mornings, and he often patronized it because very few other people were there at that early hour. It allowed him to get his shopping done before work and it meant that he didn't have to deal with long lines or anything. He'd done it so regularly in the last year that the people who owned the place now knew him on sight. He liked that, too. It made him feel not so anonymous...a little bit of positive attention. At one point, he'd considered just getting his groceries delivered. It was a new thing in some of the bigger chains, but he had decided that he didn't want that for himself and so he hadn't ever even tried it.

On Monday morning, he woke up early as usual and went in to work, continuing his editing for his paper, checking and re-checking every bit of it to make sure all the arguments hung together.

He'd been working for a few hours when he heard a knock on his door. He wanted to ignore it, but he didn't. He turned around and opened it and then raised an eyebrow in surprise.

One of his students was standing there, looking a little awkward.

"Jason, what are you doing here during the summer?" Tim asked. "I thought you'd be enjoying your vacation."

"I will be, Professor, but I had a question...or two. ...if you're not busy."

Tim smiled. Jason's interruptions were often somewhat lengthy but they were never boring.

"Of course, come on in."

Tim moved the pile of paper off his comfy chair and set it on the hard chair.

"Have a seat. Now, what's your question?" Tim asked as Jason sat down.

"I'm in my last year, and I'm starting to look at grad schools and everything. I'll be taking the GRE soon."

"I'd be happy to write a letter of recommendation," Tim said.

Jason shook his head. "No...well, maybe yes, but there was something else."

"Okay."

"See, the thing is, Professor... I love your classes. I was going to be a Physics major, and I took the cross-listed class you taught. The one on beautiful data?"

"Yes, I only taught that one a couple of times," Tim said.

"And something about the way you taught it made me see that it wasn't physics I wanted to do. It was computers. Your class is the reason I switched majors."

Tim smiled. Jason was laying it on a little thick, but Tim knew that this was how he was. He would be equally passionate about just about everything he learned for the first time.

"You know so much and you have so much I know you don't have time to share during the semester. So...what I was hoping was that you'd be willing to do an independent study course for me this fall."

Tim's eyes widened a little in surprise. "You've already taken every course I've offered, Jason. Are you sure you want to do another one?"

"Yes! I don't think you've taught even half of what you know."

Tim smiled slightly. "I'm not sure one independent study course will change all that."

Jason's cheeks reddened and Tim relented.

"Do you have some idea of what you'd like the class to be focused on, if I do this?"

Jason leaned forward eagerly. "I'm doing a dual major in computer science and linguistics. I've been trying to learn Farsi and Arabic. I actually found someone offering Farsi instruction off campus, but I'll be finishing up my Arabic courses this year. What I'm hoping is for a special cryptology course to help me get ready for my senior thesis. I really want this to show what I can do!"

"All my research has been on the technical side of things, Jason," Tim said. "Languages aren't really my thing."

"Just cryptology, Professor. I'm already talking with my Arabic professor for another independent study course. Please? No one else in the department does exactly what you do and I really want to learn more."

Tim considered the idea. He'd done a couple of independent study courses with students over the last few years and overall they'd ended up rather lackluster. However, there was no question that Jason was an enthusiastic student. If there was someone he'd be willing to try another independent study on, Jason would be the most likely candidate.

"All right, Jason. Provisionally, I'll say yes, but here's what I want from you. It'll take some of your summer vacation time, but not too much. What I want you to do is write up a general idea of what subjects you'd like to cover and the time you're willing to put into this. Independent study can range from one to three credits and we need to make sure that you're not going to give yourself too much to do along with everything else you'll be doing this semester, especially if you're going to be doing another independent study course at the same time."

"Yes, Professor. Absolutely. When do you want it?"

"By the end of the month. I have some things I'm working on myself, but by the end of June, I should be ready to look over your proposal and give you a firm decision. All right?"

"Okay! That's great! I can do that!" Jason said.

Tim smiled. "Now, normally, I wouldn't push you out of my office, but I have a conference paper I really need to finish, so I need to get back to work."

Jason jumped to his feet quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor!"

"It's fine. I wouldn't have said I had time if I didn't," Tim said...although that was a lie. He was trying to get tenure. That meant that he was trying to do everything at once, and that included mentoring students whether he had the time for it or not. However, that wasn't Jason's fault and so there was no need to make him feel guilty.

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome. End of the month."

Jason nodded.

"Thanks! Have a great day, Professor McGee!"

Then, he nearly ran out of the office and Tim leaned back in his chair to contemplate the ceiling as he thought about Jason's enthusiasm. He didn't think he'd felt that kind of excitement since he'd started trying to get tenure. He liked what he was doing, but the process was one long, hard slog that had, hopefully temporarily, sucked a lot of the enjoyment out of what he did. Maybe a course like this would help him rediscover that. Jason certainly had enough enthusiasm to make up an entire class of interested students.

A knock startled him out of his thoughts and he sat up with a thunk.

"Door open _and_ the padded chair exposed? What's the occasion?"

Tim smiled.

"Morning, Lewis. Don't you have anything to do? It's a long walk."

"Nope. I've got tenure and it's summer. Morning." Lewis came in and sat on the comfy chair before Tim could say anything. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For trying to control your life and getting mad when I couldn't. I should know better, but I didn't. Janice gave me a lecture Saturday night and it's taken me a while to swallow my pride."

Tim smiled. "Does that mean you agree with me?"

Lewis smiled, too. "No. Well, I agree that it's your life. I still think you're making a mistake in letting that detective get away with what he did to you, but it was a year ago and if you made that decision, it's not up to me to question it. ...besides, I need a friend like you. Who else can I get to fix my computer?"

"The campus help desk?" Tim suggested.

"Yeah, two weeks later. Maybe."

"Oh, come on. They're not that bad."

"No, they're not, but they're not my friend. You are, and I happen to like that."

"Well, thanks."

"So, am I forgiven?"

"Yeah, as long as we don't talk about it anymore."

"No promises, but I'll do my best."

"Okay."

"So tell me, why was the good chair exposed?" Lewis asked. "Did your department head show up unexpectedly?"

"In June? Not a chance. He's off somewhere doing _research_. I'm sure that research involves something like seeing how long he can remember that backend development doesn't have anything to do with the shape of someone's butt."

Lewis let out a startled chuckle.

"Wow, you might be in trouble if the wrong person heard that."

"Yeah, but you probably noticed how empty the department is right now."

"I noticed."

"Well, they're all at a symposium on the theory of computing."

"You didn't want to go?"

"No, I just didn't have my paper where I needed it to be and I got out of going. And since I'm going to another conference this week, it didn't seem like I was trying to get out of academic things."

"So _everyone_ is at that conference?" Lewis asked skeptically.

"Not _everyone_, but most of them. I'm here. Danielle has been in and out this summer. Jaya is in India with her family. Martin is doing research at Microsoft, and Taylor hasn't come up for air in weeks. I think he's _sleeping _at the library."

"So you feel free to talk?"

Tim smiled. "I _am_ trying to get tenure."

"Not everything in your life needs to be about that, Tim."

"Until I have it, it does," Tim said. "If I don't take it seriously, I might not get it and then I'll have to look for a new job and I don't want to deal with that."

"So...comfy chair available because?" Lewis asked.

"Jason Walker came by."

"He sure likes you. You're not even his advisor, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"What did he want?"

"To do an independent study course on cryptology this fall."

"You going to do it?"

"Probably. I told him to write up a mini proposal of what he wants to cover. That's mostly to make sure he's serious about it. The last time I did an independent study course, the student flaked out halfway through the semester and it ended up being a complete waste of my time. I like Jason. He's a good student, but the previous one was a good student, too."

"Could be fun."

"Yes, it could. That's why I didn't just say no," Tim said.

Lewis smiled. "Hey, if I promise faithfully to be good, you want to get lunch in a couple hours?"

"Sure. I'd say that I'd meet you at your office, but I'm pretty sure I'd lose track of the time."

Lewis laughed and stood up.

"You definitely would. I'll come by."

"Okay. See you then."

Lewis left and Tim turned back to his computer, suddenly in a much better mood.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony waited until mid-afternoon when Clark was off doing some research and everyone else seemed engaged in their own work. He snuck (sort of) to Germaine and gave her a winning smile. She smiled back but didn't respond to his flirting.

"Hello, Germaine, you're looking very nice today, and did I ever tell you that you have a nice name?"

Germaine rolled her eyes. "No, and you don't really think it is. Imagine being a kid and having everyone say that your nickname is Germy. What do you want, DiNozzo?"

"I want to look at a video from interrogation, but I don't want to parade it around the building."

Germaine raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why not?"

"Because Clark told me people are pretty touchy about it and I don't want to irritate anyone."

The eyebrow raise became a furrowed brow.

"What video?"

"The one from the case that got me my job here."

Her brow cleared and she mouthed _oh_.

"Why do you want to see it?"

"Well, mostly out of curiosity. Clark told me about the case and about..."

"Archer."

"Yeah."

"Well, I guess there's no reason you can't, but please don't spread it around."

"Hey, I'm the one telling _you_ that I want to keep it quiet. I'm not going to say anything to anyone else."

Germaine finally smiled and nodded.

"All right, DiNozzo. You're lucky you're cute." She patted him on the cheek.

"There has to be some benefit," Tony said, grinning.

Germaine got the video out of storage and Tony watched it. Having now met Tim McGee, no matter how briefly, Tony was quietly angry at how Archer was treating him. Archer was furious and every question he asked, he got more angry. Tim was obviously trying to be helpful. He was still shocked by what had happened. He was hunched over, looking very nervous when Archer stood up and started walking around the room. Archer was treating him like a criminal. That much was clear. His actions were of a cop interrogating a belligerent suspect, not asking questions of a frightened eyewitness.

"_What in the world do you think you were doing there, Dr. McGee?"_ Archer asked.

"_I was just trying to help," _Tim said, his voice soft. _"I didn't know that there was going to be shooting."_

Then, suddenly, Tony saw what had been described to him before. It was one thing to hear about it. It was another to see an experienced detective (which Archer was) suddenly lash out across the table and punch Tim with a nasty left hook. It was clear that Tim was taken completely by surprise, and that Archer hadn't held back. Tim flew back off the chair and hit the ground, but Archer wasn't done. He shoved the table out of the way, grabbed Tim by his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

"_People are dead because of you! Detective Benedict is dead! It's all your fault! How can you sleep at night knowing you got someone killed?"_

Every statement was accompanied with a slam against the wall. Tim wasn't even really on his own feet anymore. It was clear that he was more than a little dazed.

Then, the door to interrogation burst open and three officers ran in and grabbed Archer, pulling him away from Tim who actually slid down the wall to the floor. Archer was still shouting about how Tim had got Benedict killed. Whether Tim heard it or not was questionable. He looked almost unconscious. Another cop ran into the room and knelt down by Tim. Whatever she might have said to him wasn't picked up by the microphone. After a few seconds, Tim came around and another cop came in and the two helped Tim to his feet and then helped him out of the room. As he walked out, Tony could see just how bad it was. Tim was bleeding from a cut on his cheek and it looked like there was some blood on the back of his head, too. That had been bad. Tony couldn't believe that no charges had been filed. Archer _should_ have been charged for assault. Had Tim been threatened? Was that why he hadn't?

"Bad. Isn't it."

Tony looked back at Germaine.

"Were you there?"

"Yeah. I helped him out after they got him on his feet again. We got him to the hospital."

"Why didn't he press charges?"

"I don't know. I think everyone was waiting for it to happen, but nothing happened ...except that the case was taken from us and given to the FBI. Honestly, Tony, I think if he'd been alone with that guy, Archer would have killed him."

Tony stared at the now-blank screen. That had been way worse than he'd imagined in his head. With the people who had told him about it, he just hadn't conjured up just how bad that had been. No wonder Tim had been wary. His last experience with police could have left him dead.

"Tony...what are you going to do?" Germaine asked.

"I don't know."

"You know...it happened a year ago. Archer lost his head. He admitted it later that he should have kept his temper in check, but he didn't. He even admitted that he shouldn't have been the one doing the questioning."

"Why was he?"

"He insisted."

"He was angry from the first moment. Why didn't someone step in?"

"Come on, Tony. You know why. No one thought that Archer would lose it like that. You know him now. You wouldn't guess that of him, would you?"

Tony thought about it. And while he could admit that he wouldn't have thought it was possible just from working with him, it wasn't really against type. Archer was kind of a loose cannon. He was good at undercover work because he could be whatever he wanted to be. Tony wasn't too shabby himself because he enjoyed the chance to play different roles, but Archer liked it because it gave him the chance to ignore the rules. Still...

"Probably not," he said aloud.

Germaine grabbed his arm. "Benedict's death was awful, especially for those of us who knew him really well, but... it's been a year. Everyone is moving on, now. There's no reason to dredge all this up again. It won't help."

Tony couldn't help but wonder just how much Tim was moving on. However, the thoughts now passing through his mind didn't need to be shared...not with anyone working in the district.

"I told you I was just curious, Germaine. ...but I can't say that I'll be able to look at Archer in the same way now. There is no level on which that was right. Not even if he was a suspect. Out in the field, in pursuit, resisting arrest, any of that, fine...but not when he's helpless in interrogation."

"I know."

"Well, I'll get out of your lovely hair," Tony said, smiling although his heart wasn't really in it.

Germaine smiled a little, too.

"I won't tell anyone," she said.

"Neither will I."

_For now,_ he added silently and then headed back to his desk to get back to his real work.

What had begun as simple curiosity had now changed. Tony didn't just want to know what had happened. Now, he wanted to solve this cold case that everyone had seemed willing to put aside and ignore. And it wasn't for Benedict that he wanted to solve it. He wanted to solve it for Tim McGee. He wanted to show that it wasn't his fault that Benedict had died, which was funny since he had no idea whether it was true or not. He just couldn't get something Tim had said out of his mind.

"_I don't usually get noticed if I don't want to be...and I don't. Not anymore."_

That _not anymore_ stuck in his head. That implied that Tim used to like being noticed. And Tony would guess that it was in the last year that it had changed. Tim had been drastically affected by whatever had happened, and Tony was starting to see that there was nothing simple about the case. Probably, there were people who wanted it to remain unsolved, but it wouldn't.

Not anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tim went over his paper multiple times over the next few days, finding at least one error each time. That was enough to goad him into reading it again, just in case there was another one. If this paper got a good enough response, he might be selected for publication. If it was as good as it could possibly be going into the conference, he could submit it depending on the response and not have to do as many revisions.

Overall, it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared. He'd rather have answers to questions no one would think to ask than not have answers to questions everyone would think to ask.

Finally, though, it was Thursday, and he had to head out. It would be his first time really being outside his comfort zone in the last year. This was as much a test of himself as it was his research, not that anyone at the conference would know that. He was more nervous about not being at home or on campus than he was about actually giving the paper.

There was no reason to think something bad would happen while he was at the conference. There was no reason to think that the police in New York would know who he was, but he knew there would be security at this symposium and he wasn't happy about it.

Regardless, he needed to do this. He couldn't pull out of it, and all he needed to do was focus on the actual conference. That would be more than enough to worry about.

He had come early to his office to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before he went to get on the bus. He didn't trust himself to drive in New York City.

Tim sat in his office for a few minutes, not wanting to leave.

"You can do it. You _have_ to do it. Just take a breath and deal with it. No one will know. No one will even think to ask. Just go."

One more deep breath and Tim stood up, grabbed his bag and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony was busy working on a case with Clark for most of the week. By the time he got home in the evenings, he just wanted to eat and go to bed. Everything else was on the back burner until he had time to breathe.

By Friday, though, he had the chance to think about the Benedict case again. He still didn't like it, and so he thought that, just maybe, Tim McGee might be interested in telling his side of it. After all, even if he was still having trouble, a cop giving a genuine listening ear might be welcome.

Might.

On his lunch break, he headed over to the university campus and started to walk toward the building he thought housed the computer science department. He walked into the building and found his way to the department. There were a few people in offices, but it wasn't particularly busy. Of course, it was summer, and that meant that most of these people had time off in their cushy ivory tower. He found the office labeled as belonging to Dr. Timothy McGee and knocked, although it appeared that the light was off inside.

"Can I help you?"

Tony turned around and saw an older woman looking at him over some reading glasses.

"Yes. I was looking for Professor McGee."

She smiled. "He's not in this weekend. He's at a conference."

"Oh. Do you know when he'll be back?"

"Not until next week, I'm afraid. The conference goes all weekend. Of course, if he can, he might squeeze out early," she said with a tolerant smile.

"So if I tried back on Monday?"

"I'd be surprised if he wasn't here by then. Would you like to leave a message for him?"

Tony thought about it and then shook his head.

"No. Thanks. I'll just try back on Monday. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The woman went back into her office and Tony grimaced. Well, he hadn't called ahead and he wasn't sure of his reception even if Tim had been here. That just meant that he could spend some extra time working on it and maybe get a little more information before he talked to someone that wouldn't necessarily want to talk to him.

He went home and decided to have dinner and then, he could start working on it on Sunday when he had the day off.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Inwardly, Tim was sighing with relief as the applause signaled the end of his talk and the question and answer period. He smiled and nodded and then sat down to await the end of the session. He'd be so relieved to get out of here. He'd been tied up in knots all day long, every time he'd come out of a room and seen one of the security on duty at the doors. In fact, after the stress of Friday, when he'd had to go in and out of the venue multiple times, today, Tim had decided not to leave until after he'd given his talk, just so that he didn't have to say anything to anyone besides conference people. He was still tense, but not _as_ tense.

He listened to the remaining talk in his session and then stood to leave. He was going to his hotel room, grab his stuff and catch a bus. Yes, he could have afforded a train ticket. It would have been faster and probably a little higher class, but Tim was all about saving money and he could hopefully have time just to sit with his headphones on, listening to some jazz and reading.

"Dr. McGee!"

Tim stifled a sigh. He just wanted to leave, but he turned around and smiled. It was the last speaker.

"I found your presentation really interesting."

"Thank you, Dr. Adamson," Tim said. "I didn't know that you were working in the same area until I saw the session today."

"I'd like to talk to you more about zero-knowledge proofs and the potential weaknesses you think you've found. Will you be at the banquet tonight?"

Tim felt his heart plummet to his shoes. He actually would enjoy that conversation. ...but not here. And not now. He thought quickly.

"I won't be. I have to leave right now, in fact."

"You won't be here for the last sessions tomorrow?"

"No. I wish I could, but I have to get back to Baltimore tonight." That was nothing less than the truth. Tim felt like he'd implode if he didn't. Quickly, he fished out one of his business cards. "If you're going to be down in that area, I'd love to talk more about it, though. Actually, maybe this fall, you could come and do a seminar for the students. We could use more cryptology in the department." He smiled.

Dr. Adamson smiled and handed over his own business card.

"Baltimore isn't very close to Maine, but I think it might be worth the trip down."

"I'll talk to my chair and see if he could swing an official invitation."

Tim shook Dr. Adamson's hand, and headed for the exit. It took him a while to get there because he kept running into people who wanted to compliment him on his presentation. He was glad it had been so well received, but he really did want to get away. Back home where he felt safe and secure.

He supposed there was some irony in the fact that his work was focused on privacy and security when, in the last year, that was all he wanted for himself.

Tim left the building as quickly as he could, hurried to the hotel, checked out and went to the bus depot. He got on, sat down in a seat and sighed with relief. Four more hours, a quick taxi ride, and he'd be back in his apartment.

Safe and secure.

He put on his headphones and then pulled out his notes from the conference and began to going over what the speakers had discussed, the feedback he'd received on his paper and potential revisions. He began to relax.

For an hour, that was all he had to think of, and it was all he needed.

But then, there was a commotion from the back of the bus, loud enough that he could hear it through his headphones, but not loud enough that he couldn't act like he had heard nothing. Two men were arguing and their discussion was getting louder and louder. The angrier they got, the more tense Tim began to feel. He started turning up his music, trying to drown them out, but jazz wasn't really conducive to that kind of use.

Still, they got louder. Others began to add their voices to the general confusion. Tim closed his eyes and tried to shrink into his seat, trying to make it so that no one saw him, no one noticed him, so that anything bad that happened couldn't be blamed on him.

And he was trying not to start crying from the anxiety.

Finally, the bus driver got on the speaker and began to tell everyone to sit down and shut up. The loud voices continued for about five more minutes before the bus driver threatened to pull over and call police if they didn't knock it off.

The voices quieted down and whatever had started the argument seemed to be resolved.

That didn't help Tim, though. The tension was still in the air. He could feel it, like it was this thick, sticky haze that clung to everything and everyone. He felt like he was going to choke on it. He kept his eyes closed and tried to breathe. His jazz music was now loud enough to block out whatever residual noise there was, but for Tim it wasn't going to help him get through his panic. It would end. Eventually, it would end and maybe no one would see him like this.

Then, someone was taking off his headphones, and he heard a voice.

"–okay, sir?"

He just nodded, now adding embarrassment to the other overwhelming feelings he had. Someone had noticed him freaking out, even though he had intentionally chosen a seat near the front of the bus without another person to sit next to him. In fact, he had taken great pains to make sure he was alone on his row. Whoever was sitting beside him now was not someone who had been there before.

"Are you sure? You really don't look okay."

He nodded again, not really able to say anything coherent. Not opening his eyes. Nothing. Just trying to calm himself down.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Tim shook his head, still without speaking.

"Was it the fight?"

For a long moment, Tim didn't respond, the rational part of him wondering who this person was and why she was sitting there, trying to make this perfect stranger feel better.

But then, he decided he didn't care. He'd never see this woman again in his life most likely. ...as long as she wasn't a student at the university. She sounded young, but he wasn't sure if she was young enough to indicate college-age.

He nodded.

"It looks like it's okay. You'd think people would be smarter than to get so het up about politics, but that's the world we live in now. Everything is defined by who they voted for in the last election. I think it's pretty stupid, but this time, it looks like people remembered to think."

"G-Good," Tim whispered. The only word he could get out.

"How far are you going?"

"B-B-Baltimore," Tim said, inwardly cursing his stammer.

"It's another couple of hours still. Are you going to make it?"

He nodded again.

For the next little while, his eyes were closed and the woman sitting next to him kept talking. What amazed Tim the most (besides the fact that she was doing it at all) was that it was working. Normally, a complete stranger talking to him would only make things worse. The thing was that the more she talked, the younger she sounded and finally, he felt like the world wouldn't end if he opened his eyes.

He sat up and looked at his new seat mate.

And he was even more embarrassed. This was a teenager sitting next to him. She couldn't be older than 16 or 17. He was sure his face was bright red, but she smiled at him.

"Hey. Feeling better?" she asked, politely.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"What happened?"

"Just...anxiety. That's all."

More than that would take way too long to explain, and he didn't want to, and some things he wouldn't ever tell a teenager.

"From people fighting?"

"Among other things. Sorry for that. Normally, I can be a responsible adult."

She just shrugged.

"It gave me something to do. I was back there when those two idiots started shouting and I knew I didn't want to get dragged into it, so I came up to the front and looked for an empty row. I didn't even see you, at first."

Tim managed a weak smile. "That was my plan."

She laughed. "Doesn't work in high school, but I'll admit that I've never seen an adult try it. Besides you're way too tall."

So he was exactly right that she was a teenager. Tim hoped no one got the wrong idea. He took a deep breath and straightened in his seat.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked.

"No...not really."

"I promise that I'm not going to put the moves on you," she said, grinning mischievously.

Tim felt his face get even more red.

"No, I get it. Guys in the world right now are either pedos, idiots or abusers. No one wants to be seen doing something that'll be seen as wrong later. I promise. I just want to sit up here where there aren't idiots. Besides, there are two more hours to go and I'm trying to break my phone addiction."

"I might be an idiot," Tim said.

"Nah. You're better than the guys back there. If it wasn't for the fact that it would really throw off my schedule, I'd have wanted the driver to call the police and get rid of them. I ride this bus all the time and this is about the first time there's been a problem."

"Just my luck."

She put out her hand. "I'm Janie."

"Tim," he said and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"You ride this bus a lot?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "The judge said that it was the _fair_ thing for me to spend half time with my dad and half time with my mom. Fair to _them_ maybe, when everything in their lives was one big competition to fight about, but I didn't seem to matter. It wasn't fair to _me_. I've been doing this for years and I hate it. When I was younger, it was a little easier because they were at least both in the same city, but then Dad moved to New York and I started taking the bus every other week. Then, every other month when they finally realized that it might be having a bad effect on my schooling. Took them long enough to see someone else besides themselves. I mean, I love them both. They're my parents! But I'm so sick of being the tennis ball being hit back and forth between them. I can't wait until I'm an adult. I'm going to sit the two of them down and tell them that this is over, that I'm not going to be their ammunition and that _I_ get to decide where I'm going and when and they'll just have to work with _my_ choices for a while. But I have two more years until I can do it. I've been working on the speech I'm going to give to them. It's going to be a doozy."

Tim smiled at her earnestness even as he sympathized with her situation.

"You think they'll sit down together and listen to it?"

She smiled back. "I don't know. I'm willing to try it out, though. I can't wait. I feel like I didn't get to be a rotten teenager because my parents were too busy being rotten to each other. I used to hate being an only child when I was little. I wanted a sibling to play with, but now, I'm glad that no one else had to deal with this."

"I'm sorry," Tim said.

"It's not your fault. It's my parents' fault. I don't even think it was mine, although I used to. It's like they decided that, since they're upset at each other, I have to be the one who suffers for it, and I don't think they'd believe that's what they're doing but it doesn't matter because it's true!"

"Maybe you shouldn't wait until you're an adult. Maybe you should tell them now," Tim suggested.

"They wouldn't have to listen."

"No, but if they do love you, maybe they really don't realize how hard it is. Maybe what you should do is give them both a copy of that speech you're writing and then tell them what you want. Do you want to live in New York for the school year and Baltimore for the summer? Or do you want the opposite? Holidays? If you can tell them exactly what you want and how you feel, they might be willing to listen to you and make changes _before_ you're an adult."

"Do you think so?" Janie asked, hopefully.

"I don't know your parents, but it might be worth a try."

"But if it doesn't work then I'll have to write a new speech for when I'm an adult. I can't say the same thing twice."

Tim smiled. "Well, you'd still have two years to do it."

Janie smiled back. "That is a long time. It seems like forever."

"You're going to be a junior?"

"Yeah."

"It's summer vacation right now. This might be the time to try it and then, if they do listen to you, you could get set up for the new school year."

"Maybe I will. I really like my school in Maryland a lot more than the one in New York. All my friends from elementary are there. I have friends in New York, but it's hard to have good friends when you're only there for a month at a time."

"I'm sure it is."

They continued to chat for a little while longer, mostly talking about Janie in the self-centered way teens often have. Tim didn't mind. He wasn't really enthused about talking about himself and his problems were harder to explain and even harder to solve than Janie's. He certainly did feel bad for her struggles as the daughter of divorced parents who apparently still didn't get along at all. He hoped that she'd find a way of navigating through all the complexities.

But after a while, they ran out of things to say and Janie decided she'd gone long enough without her phone this time and so she pulled it out and started texting someone or something.

Tim put his headphones back on, turned down the music to a normal level and went back to his papers. He was amazed at how much better he felt, just having been distracted from his own problems for a little while. He was still a little embarrassed that it had taken a teenage girl to talk him down from his panic, but at least, while he could still feel the omnipresent tension, he was back to his usual emotional state...mostly.

Another couple of hours without incident and they arrived in Baltimore. Janie waved bye to him and then got off the bus. Tim took his time so that they wouldn't be seen as traveling together (since they weren't anyway). Then, he got off the bus and flagged down a taxi for the short drive to his apartment building. He almost ran into the building and up to his apartment.

Once he got inside, he lay down on his couch and hugged a pillow, closing his eyes tightly.

He lay there for hours, trying to get back his safe and secure feeling.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tony decided to give himself a real break on Sunday. Initially, he had planned on working on the Benedict case again, but after the case he and Clark had worked during the week, the revelations from the Archer interrogation, and the general concern he had about what had really happened in the Benedict case, he decided he'd be better off with a day off.

That being decided, he had to also decide just what he was going to do. First things first. Tony knew he needed to go shopping. Maybe today would be a good day to invite some people over for dinner. He hadn't done it in a while, and he always liked having people eat what he cooked. It was a way of having fun and kind of showing off at the same time because a lot of people who thought they knew him were surprised that he liked cooking...and that he was good at it. Tony would easily admit that he wasn't so great at the baking part, but cooking he could do, in part because the rules were extremely flexible. Baking had to be so exact.

With that much decided, he thought about who he'd like to have come over. He had only lived in Baltimore for a year and that meant he hadn't quite got the big social circle he liked to have. This first year, taking over from a well-liked detective who had been killed, it had taken a lot of extra work, longer hours and unexpected calls into work. That meant he hadn't had the amount of free time it usually took to establish good friends and acquaintances.

He looked at his contacts and decided to call one of his old frat brothers who lived in Baltimore. Jerry was always up for free food, even now. And he'd also bring a couple of friends. He always did. Then, he added in Linda whom he'd met at the gym, and she'd probably bring her sister. He looked at the list. How many people could comfortably fit in his place? Maybe one more group. Oh, perfect, the pick-up basketball people. Moroni and he'd bring his wife. So would Samuel. That would be enough for a good evening, even if one or two couldn't make it. It wouldn't be too raucous, either, which he didn't want. This time. He just wanted people over for dinner, people _not _associated with work.

He had learned early on in his career that he needed a wider social circle than just work friends. Work friends were easy, but it also meant it was hard to get away from defining his entire life by his job and Tony had decided that he didn't want that for himself. He'd seen it far too often.

So he quickly made all the calls. Linda was busy that evening, but everyone else was happy to join him. That meant that he could plan a menu and go shopping. He would do Italian. It was stereotypical perhaps, but he liked some stereotypes. Besides, it was easy to make a ton of food using Italian staples. That was always good. He could send home some leftovers and have food for himself for the week.

This was the kind of evening he really liked. Good food, good company, everything set aside for a night before getting back to work in the morning.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had planned on going to his office on Sunday and doing some work to make up for the fact that he was skipping out on the conference early, but even when he woke up Sunday morning, he didn't feel like he could face the world with any degree of calm. So instead, he stayed home and sent out a few emails to people at the conference, making sure that they knew he had enjoyed their papers and asking a few questions related to his own research, particularly Dr. Adamson. He was a full professor and could be a good connection to make. In fact, Tim had been relieved that there were no critical questions from him during his presentation. Knowing that he had been presenting on a similar topic had led to Tim considering pulling out of the conference all together, but the shadow of tenure loomed over him and kept him from avoiding the stress.

All in all, Sunday was his chance to recover and he had no intention of talking to a single other person. In fact, he turned off his phone and didn't even check his email. Officially, he should only have been getting back Sunday evening anyway, even if he'd always planned on coming back on Saturday.

Sunday was his day to not think about anything in particular. He never left his apartment. He didn't even open the curtains. He just stayed indoors and read novels. He didn't even do computer work.

He just hoped that he felt ready to face the world again on Monday. He couldn't just hide out in his apartment all the time. He had too many responsibilities. Even during the summer.

Maybe he'd try going to the alley tomorrow, see if he could start to confront what had happened. It was out of the way, but it might be worth it to try.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dinner had been perfect Sunday evening, just the kind of thing Tony had needed to recharge. On Monday, Tony decided that he really wanted to check out the crime scene and so he took a personal day, knowing that he could get called in if something urgent came up, but that otherwise, he'd have some free time, and no reason for anyone in the district to see him looking at the alley.

After looking over the photos from the FBI's case file, he took his camera and headed over. He didn't expect any kind of evidence to have survived for an entire year, but he wanted to wrap his head around what was presented as the sequence of events.

It was a sequence he was beginning to suspect wasn't actually true, but he couldn't really be sure just by looking at photos and reading. He needed to see for himself and hopefully get a better sense of the true sequence from Tim himself.

If he could convince Tim that this wasn't an attempt to attack him again.

It had been a year. Tony really hoped that Tim was better off than that, but he couldn't be sure. He hadn't seemed great at the party, but maybe it was just in that particular situation.

When he got to the alley, Tony was glad that he hadn't expected anything. The alley even looked like it had been swept recently, and how often did _that_ happen. Still, he wanted to see the scene, not gather evidence. He stood where the photos indicated that Benedict's body had been found. It was not in the middle but on the side, next to the wall of an abandoned auto body shop. The alley continued through the block and came out on a small side street.

Tony stood where he was and looked back and forth for a few seconds. Then, he stepped into the middle of the alley.

"If there had been a physical fight going on, was Benedict up against the wall?" Tony mused to himself. "I can't imagine he didn't know how to hold his own in a fight. He wouldn't let himself get pinned against the wall. ...unless there really wasn't any room. ...like if a car was parked in the alley."

That at least supported Tim's assertion that there had been a car. But...

Tony stepped back as if he was pinned to the wall and looked back to the place where Tim had said he was standing. Why would he notice it from this far away? Unless it had been really noisy, it would have been almost invisible to any passerby. He stepped back toward the middle of the alley.

And what had he been doing here anyway? He wouldn't have any reason to be in this neighborhood.

...and what was he doing here right at this moment?

Suddenly, there Tim was, standing at the end of the alley. Tony was surprised to see him, but it looked like nothing to the surprise Tim had at being seen.

"Hey, Professor. What are you doing here?" Tony asked, raising his voice a little.

Tim's eyes widened at being addressed and suddenly, he took off.

Tony stood there, surprised at Tim's reaction, and then took off running after him. He ran to the end of the alley and then turned in the direction Tim had gone. He saw him, and for some reason, it really didn't fit his image of Tim to see him running, particularly since he really wasn't dressed for running.

That did give Tony an advantage, however, and he caught up relatively quickly, grabbed Tim by the arm and tried to get him to stop.

"Hey, Professor, what's the hurry?"

Tim said nothing. He stopped running, but he yanked his arm out of Tony's grip and backed away from him very quickly. He was breathing heavily and looked genuinely frightened.

"I'm not going to hurt you or arrest you, Dr. McGee," Tony said. "I was just surprised to see you there and I wanted to know what you were doing."

"W-Why?" Tim asked, actually stammering a little.

"That's what I'm asking you. Why were you in that alley?"

"I wasn't in the alley," Tim said. "I was on the sidewalk. It's a public space. I d-don't have to justify being there."

"No, you don't, but I have a feeling that you probably should."

"Or what?"

Tony forced himself to smile, to look as friendly and non-threatening as possible.

"Or nothing. How about this? I'll tell you what _I_ was doing there, if you tell me."

He could see that Tim didn't trust him even a little bit, but he just waited, hoping that Tim might have some degree of curiosity, that it might overcome his fear, and fear it definitely was. Tony could see now that Tim had never really got over what had happened the year before and he was actually afraid of what Tony might do to him. He tamped down the anger that thought gave him.

"I haven't... been back here in over a year," Tim said, his voice very soft. "I was just trying to see if I could handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Thinking about what happened." Then, his cheeks reddened a little. "I had a meltdown over the weekend and I was trying to get over it."

Tony wanted to probe for details about what that "meltdown" might have involved, but at the moment, he didn't think that would help Tim trust him. Instead, he decided to keep up his end.

"I'm the detective who took Benedict's place after he was killed. After meeting you, I looked at the case file and saw what went on back then. I don't like what happened to you and I don't think what's in the case file is correct. So I'm looking into it again."

"L-Looking into... what?"

"The case. I'm trying to solve the case...although I'm doing it on my own time, without any help. I don't want to get the other people in the district wound up thinking about the past."

Tim looked at him for a long time and then he gave a pseudo-casual shrug.

"Oh. Well, I have places to be. You can..."

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about it, too."

"I already said what I have to say. And I said it a year ago. I don't need to repeat myself now," Tim said.

His voice was still a little shaky, but he mostly had recovered himself and he squared his shoulders and walked away.

"Don't you want the truth to come out?"

"What truth?" Tim asked, not stopping.

"The truth you didn't tell last year."

Tim stopped in his tracks, but he didn't turn around, and he didn't say a word.

"I told you that I've been reading the case file and it makes no sense, but because Archer assaulted you, people just assumed that you got some details wrong because you were scared. I don't think so. I think you lied. Now, I don't know _why_ you lied, but I think you did because what you described just doesn't fit with anything I know about you or about Benedict."

Tim didn't turn around.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that you were treated badly and that you're still scared even a year later because of what one detective did to you."

No response. Tony started to walk over to where Tim had stopped.

"I know that you're aware that your reactions are still skewed by what happened."

Still nothing. Tony decided to push, just a little bit.

"And I know that it doesn't make sense that you were willing to get physically involved in an altercation you probably couldn't have seen from the street when you could have just called police. Were you really out on the street, Dr. McGee? Or were you actually in the alley?"

A very long pause. "I... I have things to do, D-Detective. I don't have time to play cops with you. I'm going to be late."

"It's summer. You're not teaching classes. What are you late for?"

Tim turned to him, and Tony was again surprised. Tim still looked frightened and tense.

"I need to get to my office," he said.

Something about the way he spoke, Tony didn't think Tim was speaking figuratively. The need was genuine. He stepped back and gestured for Tim to continue on his way. Tim looked at him for a moment and then started walking very quickly away from him, with a number of glances back over his shoulder as if to make sure that Tony wasn't actually following him. Actually, Tony planned on going back to Tim's office that very day, but he wanted to finish what he was doing in the alley first. And he wanted to give Tim a chance to calm down.

So he walked back to the alley and stood where Tim had claimed he was. Again, it made no sense for him to be able to see the fight, get involved in said fight and lead to the death of Benedict. That being the case, either he wasn't there at all and had some strange need to get attention, even negative attention, or else he'd been _in_ the alley, close enough to see what was going on. That meant that the new, and probably most important, question was _why_. Why had Tim been there and why did he feel the need to lie about it? He clearly hadn't tried to pretend he wasn't there at all. He clearly hadn't tried to correct any incorrect idea about his interference. So why had he told the story he had chosen to tell?

Tim McGee was the biggest part of the mystery here. If that part could be cleared up, Tony had a feeling he'd know exactly what was going on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim hurried to campus and into his office. He managed to avoid seeing anyone that would prevent him from getting into his office quickly. Once he was in, he sat down at his computer and turned it on, feeling relief just at seeing the the monitor come on and the computer boot up. He sat there, breathing slowly and deeply as he stared at the screen and nowhere else.

How had that detective known? No one else had asked him. No one else had really even listened to him. How? What would that mean if he started asking questions? Tim didn't want people asking him questions, not about anything that didn't have to do with computers. He felt safe there. He did not feel safe answering questions on other topics.

_He said he didn't like what happened._

But did he mean it or was he just saying that to trick Tim into trusting him?

There was a knock on the door. He didn't want to see anyone, but then, tenure loomed up in his mind again. What would he do if he couldn't escape from the world by retreating to his computer?

"Come in," he said.

The door opened.

"How was the conference, Tim?"

The female voice startled him but he didn't turn around.

"Hi, Danielle."

"That good, was it," she said and sat down.

Danielle was the only person in the department who knew about his lingering problems from the events of the year before. She didn't know the details, but she knew about his fear of public spaces and she had taken time to convince the department chair to take it easy on him. She wasn't his official mentor, but she'd taken on that role.

"The conference was fine. A lot of people liked what I had to say. Seth Adamson was in my session. He wanted to talk more about my proposals."

"That's great, Tim! If you can make connections with him, a lot more people will hear what you say."

"I said no...or at least, I tried to put it off."

"Why?"

Tim turned around to face her.

"Because I couldn't stay there anymore. I had to get back home."

"Tim..."

"Really! I'm not exaggerating. Some guys started fighting on the bus and..."

Danielle sighed. "You took the bus? Really, Tim? You're not in grad school anymore. You could afford the train."

"Not if I don't get tenure."

Now, her expression was one of frustrated sympathy.

"Tim, I know that worries you, but you don't have to be so worried. I've already told you that the faculty likes what you're doing and they're happy with your work. You're going to get tenure."

"Unless I screw up."

"You've published regularly. You're presenting at conferences. Your students enjoy your classes. Tim, you don't need to cut corners like that. You're going to be fine."

Tim didn't answer Danielle's unspoken question.

"What happened on the bus?"

"Two guys started arguing really loudly. I had a meltdown."

"A panic attack."

Tim nodded reluctantly. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like those moments described as panic attacks whether they were or not.

"I couldn't leave my apartment yesterday. I was going to come and do some work to make up for skipping out on the conference early, but... I couldn't."

Danielle patted him on the shoulder. She had been the very first tenured female faculty in the computer science department and she had told every new faculty that she might be older than the others, but she wasn't the department grandma. It was true, but she'd been very supportive of Tim all the way through his tenure efforts and he had definitely appreciated it.

"I know you don't want to, but you should talk to someone about this, Tim. You're putting yourself through something that doesn't have to be so debilitating. You just need help."

"I'm getting better. It'll be fine. Once I have tenure."

"It's your choice and I can't make you, but whether you're getting better on your own or not, it's taking longer than it needs to. You shouldn't be afraid of leaving your home."

"I'm okay, here."

"I know that, but you still have to get here," Danielle said with a slight smile.

Tim took a breath and nodded.

"Anyway, what did Dr. Adamson say?"

"I said he should come down here sometime, and I suggested that maybe we could get him to come for a seminar. He seemed interested. I was going to talk to Brian when he got back."

"That's a good idea. Not too many people have caught his attention in the last few years. If you have, that will look even better. Even if he doesn't come back here, you should keep up that contact. If he's interested in your research, you could get some good articles out of a connection like that."

Tim nodded again.

"All right. I'll get out of your hair. What do you have for the rest of the summer?"

"One of my students wants an independent study course in the fall. If he follows through, I'll work on setting that up. I'm teaching the new version of the intro to cryptology course. If I can get this presentation submitted, I'll have another article in the works. Nothing too strenuous."

"Don't be afraid to take some days off of all this. You can't expect to succeed if you're so worn out that you blow a gasket."

"I know."

"Good. Put that knowledge into practice and you'll be doing well."

Tim smiled and Danielle left him to his work. He understood her concern and he even appreciated it, but nothing took precedence over getting that job security, that title that would ensure a steady income and no need to leave the place he felt safe.

He turned back to his computer and started working again. He was able to get quite a bit finished in the next hour or so.

But then, there was another knock. Assuming that it would be Lewis welcoming him back and inviting him to lunch, Tim didn't even turn around.

"Come in."

"Hey, Professor McGee. Has anyone ever told you that you hunch over your computer like some carnivorous bird guarding its prey?"

Tim spun around and saw the police detective standing there in his doorway, smiling easily.

"Now that you're in your office, you feel up to talking?"

Tim couldn't think of a single thing to say.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

For a moment, he was just sitting there, knowing that he had a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes. A cop invading his one safe space! However, he had to admit that Tony didn't look the least bit threatening. His smile didn't waver; he wasn't even insisting on stepping into the office. He seemed just to be waiting for some kind of answer.

"About w-what?" Tim managed to say.

"The same thing I was asking before."

Tim didn't have time to even _think_ of something else to say. Suddenly, Danielle was back.

"Oh, Tim, I was just going to mention that..." She stopped and smiled. "So you're back," she said to Tony.

"Just like a bad penny. Tony DiNozzo. I work for the Baltimore police department."

"Oh? Another detective? The last one was over a year ago, but still...I can't think of another faculty who's had police in his office," Danielle said, smiling. "Thinking of switching careers, Tim?"

Tim managed a very weak smile, even as he was inwardly thinking that this was about the worst possible thing that could have happened to him.

"He'd have to take a major pay cut," Tony said, still smiling and at ease. "I just wanted to ask him some complicated computer questions."

"Well, I won't keep you, then. Tim is great at explaining those kinds of things. People don't always want to _listen_ to his explanations, but he's very good at adapting them for a less expert audience."

"Dumbing down, then?"

Danielle grinned. "Well, we don't like to use that word. Simplifying."

Tony laughed. "It's okay. I'm a computer dunce beyond general stuff. I'm okay with having things dumbed down."

Danielle chuckled and then left. Tim wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted to push Tony away from his office door and close it and lock it tight. He wanted to do all that, but he did nothing. He just sat there, terrified of what was coming next.

What came next was Tony turning back to him and raising a questioning eyebrow.

"_Another _detective?" he asked. "Do you make a habit of talking with police detectives, Professor? Based on what I've seen, you'd prefer to avoid them."

Tim said nothing.

"I'm going to take a wild guess, a total stab in the dark here, Dr. McGee," Tony said. "Would that previous detective have been a Detective Benedict, by chance?"

Suddenly, afraid of something much worse than just a cop in his office, Tim stood up, pulled Tony into his office, closed and locked the door, closed the blinds and sat down with a thump on his chair.

"Don't talk about that, Detective. Don't say a word about it where someone might hear. Please."

The smile vanished from Tony's face.

"What are you afraid of, Professor? Has someone threatened you?"

"No. Just don't talk about it. Leave it in the past where it belongs."

"I can't do that, and you should know that I can't do that. If something has happened, if the conclusions made are incorrect, I need to correct them."

"No. The case is closed."

"No, it's not. It's cold. We never solved who killed Benedict. We've just acknowledged that we may never know. That's not closed. That's open, but cold."

Tim shook his head.

"No. It just needs to stay closed. Don't ever talk about it."

"Why not? You need to give me a reason, and you need to tell me _what _I'm not talking about, Professor."

"No. After what happened, I decided never to say anything about it to anyone. There's no one left to speak for me, there's no one I can trust with it. I'm not telling you anything. Just leave it alone."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? No one else cared!" Tim said, hearing his own voice rising as his panic increased. "No one else thought anything about it! They wanted it to go away and it went away! So... j-just s-s-stop before..."

And his possible fate loomed up in his mind so strongly that he couldn't control himself. His most recent meltdown was _too_ recent and he hadn't fully recovered from it yet. As embarrassing as it was to freak out in front of the detective, Tim couldn't stop it from happening. He closed his eyes as he started to hyperventilate and tried to _stop_ thinking about what could happen to him.

Then, suddenly, he felt his chair being rolled around and an arm was around his shoulders. The tiny rational part of him knew that this could only be the detective since he was the only one in the room and thought it was weird, but the part that was panicking (basically, every other part of him) was grateful for the physical contact that helped him realize that he wasn't back in that alley. He wasn't in that interrogation room. He was in his office. Safe and secure.

And then, a sound beyond the deafening roaring in his ears reached him.

"...-orry, Professor. I've seen a few panic attacks in my time and I know it feels like you're dying, but you're not. You just need to breathe through it and let yourself calm down. Or force yourself to calm down. Whatever works."

Tim managed to get his eyes open and he was staring at the floor. Although he could see two pairs of shoes, he wasn't having to look anyone in the eye after that embarrassment.

"Feeling better, doc?"

"Yeah," Tim whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Good. I'll give you a chance to calm down before I push again. And for the record, I'm really sorry about what happened to you."

"H-H-How did you know about it?" Tim whispered.

"I watched the interrogation video and what Archer did to you was wrong. There's nothing about it that was right or justified in any way. I'll come by another time."

The arm disappeared from around his shoulder, and the feet walked out of his line of sight, but then, the words he'd said actually registered and Tim lifted his head quickly.

"Do you mean that?" he asked and then had to clear his throat and swallow to make his voice sound less crackly.

Tony turned around. "Mean what?"

"That it was wrong."

"Yes."

"N-No one ever admitted that, you know," Tim said. He looked back at the floor. "Even the official apology was phrased in a way that it sounded like an unfortunate accident. And when I left the building, everyone was staring at me, wishing I was dead. No cop _ever _said that what happened to me was wrong, not even the ones who helped me."

"Well, it was."

"Yeah, it was."

Tim wasn't sure about why he felt like he could sit up in his chair again, look Tony in the eye again, but he did. Maybe Tony could see the difference because he asked another question.

"Was Benedict here in your office?"

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked around his office, looked at his computer monitor and then back at Tony again. He made a decision.

...and he nodded.

"Yes, he was. About a year and a half ago."

Tony sat down. (On the hard chair.)

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Dr. McGee?"_

_Tim barely looked up from his desk. He was working, but not on anything that needed all his attention and he'd left his office door open all day._

"_Yes?"_

_Then, he looked up again. The man standing in front of him was a lot older than he'd expected._

"_What can I do for you?" he asked._

"_I'm not sure."_

"_Uh...okay?"_

_The man smiled. "You look busy. I'm sorry to interrupt."_

_Tim smiled back. "Well, I probably look busier than I actually am. I'm just going over some coding. Have a seat."_

"_Thanks."_

_Tim checked to make sure he knew where he was at, made a note of his place, and then looked up again._

"_What can I do for you?"_

"_My name is John Benedict. I'm a detective with the Baltimore Police Department."_

_Tim felt his brow furrowing._

"_Oh? I haven't ever had anything to do with law enforcement, Detective. Most of my work is pretty abstract. I can't imagine that my specialty would be of practical use."_

"_From what I can tell, that's exactly what I want."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean that I need the help of a computer expert and I'm picking you because no one would ever guess that I would."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony saw the change. Was it just the acknowledgment of wrongdoing that had made the difference? Could it have been that simple? He rather doubted it. When fear could push Tim into a panic attack like that, even the right words wouldn't be enough to fix everything.

He could see that he would need to tread pretty carefully. Tim's fear was apparently debilitating and so he couldn't do his usual heavy, sometimes annoying questioning method. He would have to be a lot more accommodating of what Tim could actually handle; otherwise, he wouldn't get anywhere.

"Can you answer more questions right now, Professor?" he asked, finally.

He hated asking that question. Tim had just admitted to knowing Benedict before his death. He had just indicated that what people had known about the case was inaccurate at best. He wanted to know what Tim knew. And he wanted to know it _right now_. But Tim would be wary of him, and Tony knew why. He couldn't blame Tim for not trusting law enforcement. The best way to fix that would be to respect his situation.

Tim looked at him with some suspicion. Tony decided to smile rather than react as he naturally wanted to.

"I'll be honest. Now that you've admitted to one thing, I want to keep hounding you until you tell me everything since it's looking more and more like you know a lot more than anyone gave you credit for. But I won't do that since it appears that you can't deal with that kind of questioning. I'm guessing it brings back bad memories."

Tim actually managed a weak smile.

"Understatement of the decade," he said, softly.

"So can you answer anything more right now?" Tony asked again.

"I wish I was strong enough to say yes, Detective, but I'm not right now. I had a problem over the weekend and I'm still...a little more shaky than I usually am."

"Can you just tell me anything? I promise I won't ask questions...just anything to give me a hint at what you know?"

"I don't know who killed Detective Benedict," Tim said. "I really didn't see who it was."

That was a disappointment, but Tony was pretty sure Tim was being honest.

"But it was my fault that he was there in that alley. It was my idea. I don't know who else found out, but that's why I didn't say anything. It was obvious that no one knew, and that meant that Detective Benedict hadn't trusted _anyone_. If he hadn't, I didn't dare, either. The only reason I'm telling you this much is because you weren't on the force here when this happened. So I don't think you could be part of it."

"So there really was an investigation."

"Yes. But please, don't ask me to tell you now. I feel really tense just saying anything at all. After what happened last year... I got paranoid for a while. I felt like cops were watching me anywhere I went. I barely dared leave my apartment. In fact, after the FBI was done questioning me, I didn't leave...for a few weeks. It was summer, so I could get away with it. I was so afraid of any cop I saw that I couldn't handle it. Every time I have a meltdown, I'm afraid of getting back into that paranoia. And if you don't mind, I'm not really sure I fully trust you."

"I do mind, but I get it."

Tim smiled slightly. "I'm not sure you really do. Detective, you don't know what you're asking me to do. I didn't know what I was getting into when Detective Benedict came to my office last year. If I had known, I wouldn't have dared. If he had known... well, I'd _hope_ that he'd think twice before getting help from someone completely untrained."

"I didn't know him, either, but most people liked him," Tony said. "I'd hope that, too." He paused, but Tim didn't add anything more and he stifled a sigh. "All right, Professor. Would it be too much to ask to have you call me when you feel like you can tell me more?"

"Maybe, but you could try it," Tim said.

Tony felt his brow furrow. He wasn't sure if Tim was making a joke or not. He decided just to pull out his card and hand it over. Tim took it without comment.

Tony stood up to leave.

"Detective."

He turned back.

"What?"

"Who knows that you're looking into this?"

"No one right now. As far as my partner knows, it's just curiosity on my part. I haven't told anyone that I'm actually investigating. Why?"

"Can it stay that way?"

"For now."

"Okay."

Tony left the office, thinking about what he'd learned. After the first bombshell that Tim had known Benedict before his death, that he had actually come to Tim for something, the rest of it had been only minor explosions.

This was going to be messy. He had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be a simple murder. He had a feeling that someone really _wouldn't_ want Tony looking into this which meant he had to keep it a secret until he knew the whole story.

As he left the building, he wondered at Tim's self-described paranoia. What if the reason Benedict hadn't said anything to anyone at the district was that he thought someone in the BPD was guilty of something? If that was the case, then, unless he already knew who it was, he wouldn't want to tip his hand. Benedict had twenty years of experience. He could easily have made a choice to tell no one until he had more evidence.

And he had gone to Tim McGee to get that evidence. Why Tim was the next question. If Tim had been deliberately chosen, what was it about his expertise that would lead Benedict to choosing him?

So many questions swirled around in his head and Tony knew that he wouldn't get all the answers he wanted until Tim was willing to talk more about it. This could be dangerous.

_Maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew. What if I choke on it?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"_If you're aware of how abstract my work is, why ask me? I'm assuming that you're wanting something a little more...practical," Tim said._

"_Because I'm assuming that if you can do all that stuff, what I'm asking should be a cinch," Benedict said._

_Tim laughed. "It doesn't always work that way, but I can certainly hear your request. It doesn't cost anything to ask."_

_Benedict smiled, but his expression was still serious. "It might cost something. I don't know how much, though."_

_Tim's smile faded slightly. "What are you wanting me to do?"_

"_I notice that you're not asking whether or not it's illegal."_

"_I'm hoping that a cop wouldn't be asking me to do something illegal," Tim said, turning the question back on him._

_Benedict's eyes twinkled a little. "Touché, Professor. Would you be able to look around in a computer system without being seen?"_

_Tim raised an eyebrow. "Am I in this system with legal access or illegal access?"_

"_Does it make a difference?"_

"_Yes. Not least of which because it means the difference between criminal activity and not criminal activity. I don't want to go to prison, here."_

"_This isn't me attempting to trap you, I promise. Why else would it make a difference?"_

"_Well, anytime you log into a system, there's a record made that you were in there. Someone could go in later and see that you logged in. Depending on the setup, all your keystrokes could be logged as well."_

"_So they'd know whatever I did?"_

"_Well, whatever you typed, but if you were making changes or opening files, those would be pretty obvious."_

"_And if I wanted to make sure that no one could see what I was looking at?"_

_The eyebrow went up again, but Tim answered. "There's usually a way to turn off keystrokes, but to do that, you'd have to make changes and that would mean leaving a trace behind that you were making changes. There are ways to get around that, too, but it means a lot of tampering and if someone knew you were doing it, they might be able to see that and be suspicious. I know I would be."_

"_But if no one thought to look, would it be obvious?"_

"_Not if... _you_ did it right," Tim said, putting a slight emphasis on the _you_._

_Benedict laughed outright._

"_I have to say, Dr. McGee, I wasn't sure about coming into the ivory tower for help, but I think I like you."_

_Tim laughed in return._

"_Even the ivory tower is a little dingy at times, Detective."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim thought back to that first day. He had liked Benedict. He'd been honest about what he wanted, but Tim still wondered if he'd known just how dangerous it was going to be. Maybe he knew it would be dangerous for himself but thought that Tim would be safe. And to be honest, the only danger he'd genuinely been in had been because of the location he had chosen and because of the interrogation he'd gone through. He had to be fair and admit that Benedict had not knowingly put him in danger.

But what if whoever had been willing to kill Benedict found out who he'd been working with? That was what terrified Tim. He hadn't known who the guilty party was and once Benedict was dead, he had stopped working on it, had stopped paying attention to it. He didn't even quite remember if he still had all the work they'd been doing before. Those first few weeks after Benedict's death had been the worst as far as Tim was concerned. He had been so terrified of being found out that he hadn't even stepped foot outside his apartment.

What he wanted to do now was beg this new detective to stop before he got them both killed. However, he had seen it in his eyes. There was no way that Detective DiNozzo would back down, especially now that he knew that the actual case file was full of flaws, that probably a lot of it was completely and utterly wrong.

Another knock on his door, and by now, Tim was ready to go back into hibernation mode and not see another person. Still, he didn't feel like he _could_ do that.

"Come in," he said, reluctantly.

"Hey, Tim, how was the conference?" Lewis asked, jovially. Then, his expression changed as he saw Tim. "What's wrong?"

Tim wanted to be able to pretend that nothing was wrong, but he couldn't, not so soon after his most recent break down. He just slumped down in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Tim, come on. Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I..." He paused and took a breath. He couldn't tell Lewis everything. "I had a meltdown on the bus on Saturday. I had another one this morning. I just... I wish I could hide and never see anyone ever again."

"Oh, Tim. I'm sorry, man. That's terrible. What happened on the bus?"

"Two guys were fighting. It was so loud and chaotic and angry. It took a teenage girl who didn't want to get involved in the fight and moved to the front of the bus to talk me down. I didn't even leave my apartment on Sunday. Then... today, I walked by the alley where the detective was killed."

"Why?"

"To see if I could."

"I guess you can't?"

"I made it there," Tim said, deliberately avoiding mentioning the presence of a cop in said alley.

"Well, I was coming to invite you to lunch, but why don't I just get something and bring it back here for you."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Lewis. I know you feel like you do, but you don't. I'll get over it."

"And while you're getting over it, I'll grab lunch. I don't see that you brought anything."

Tim actually was able to smile. "I was assuming you'd invite me."

Lewis returned the grin.

"Took you long enough to figure that out. Really, though, Tim. If being out triggered another one, even I can admit that you might need to take it easy for a couple of days. It's summer. You have time. And I know what you're going to say, and your tenure committee won't be meeting during the summer. We both know that. So that means that you can take a few days right after going to a conference to relax."

"I left the conference early."

"I'm assuming you gave your paper."

"Yeah."

"Well-received?"

"Yeah."

"Then, you can rest on your laurels for a few days. And I can get lunch. Any preferences?"

"Just something simple," Tim said, capitulating to something he really wanted but felt that he had to reject.

"All right. I'll be back and you can tell me about the _good _stuff that happened at the conference. All right?"

"Okay. Lewis?"

"Yeah?"

Tim took another deep breath.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Lewis left and Tim felt a bit guilty because he was letting Lewis help him, but he was keeping the truth from him, too. As he'd told Tony, it was too risky to share these things out, but it still felt wrong to lie to his close friend.

Still, he was getting lunch and he'd have time to hide in his office and try to calm down again. Maybe he could hope for a better tomorrow.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony went home. As he did, he could hear his first police mentor shouting at him about taking his work home with him. He smiled as he thought about what his mentor would say to him about what he was doing.

"He would say that I was being an idiot, even worse than Benedict, because I didn't learn from his mistakes."

What mistakes had Benedict made? Well, doing it completely alone. He should have had _someone_ else. Or had he decided that Tim counted? A foolish decision, if so.

And what was he doing? The same thing. And Tim was very likely not the same kind of person he'd been before, so why was he assuming that this was okay? It wasn't and he shouldn't.

Tony did agree with Benedict's apparent choice to tell no one at the district, even if Clark had been new when Benedict had been killed, he still would be in that group and he might inadvertently let something slip. However, Tony did know someone else he could go to, someone in law enforcement.

He grimaced. He liked needling Sacks, but they just didn't work well together. They approached the same goal with very different methods and different personalities, which had led to some fireworks when they'd worked together the first and only time. In fact, it had culminated in Sacks accusing Tony of murder. While they had both managed to get through it, it had left an impression. A negative impression. In fact, while they had got help from each other through phone and email, they really hadn't been in the same place at the same time since then.

Of course, since that was the case, who would expect them to _be_ in the same place at the same time?

The idea of the same thing happening to him as had happened to Benedict decided him. Tony wasn't a martyr. He had no interest in sacrificing himself for this. He wanted the case solved... and now, he also wanted Tim exonerated. Even if he hadn't been officially charged with anything, he'd been treated like he was. Plus, Tim also seemed to have convicted himself. Tony didn't like that, either. He wanted Tim to get the chance to be better than he was, and he wanted to figure out what had happened to Benedict because he didn't like it when criminals got away with their crime. Someone had failed here, and he had the chance to fix it. He wanted all that, but he didn't want to die to do it.

That was worth time spent with Sacks. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"_Now what, DiNozzo?"_ Sacks asked in a resigned voice.

"I need your help, Ron," Tony said, showing in a moment that he was serious without even having to say it.

There was a long pause.

"_What's going on?"_

"The Benedict case."

"_What about it?"_

"It's all wrong."

Another long pause.

"_Okay. What do you want me to do about that?"_

"Help me."

"_Help you? Help you what?"_

"Solve it. So that I can live through it and we figure out what happened."

"_Live through it? You think it's that serious?"_

"It got Benedict killed."

"_Okay. Why me? Why not your partner?"_

"Because..." Here it was Tony's turn to pause. What would Sacks think of this? "Because I think that the reason Benedict didn't tell anyone what he was doing was because he was suspicious of someone in the district."

"_Someone who ended up killing him?"_

"Maybe. ...and I don't want any record of this until I'm sure."

"_Whoa. I don't know how things work in your neck of the woods, DiNozzo, but where I work, I have to account for my time and secret investigations aren't exactly looked on favorably."_

"Just until I can get some real evidence. I don't want to destroy someone's life or have my own destroyed because I jumped the gun."

"_You including me in that?"_

Tony smiled a little. "Maybe."

"_I shouldn't do this, you know. You're telling me that an FBI investigation came to completely incorrect conclusions and yet you don't want me to say anything."_

"Where are you? I hope you didn't just say something."

"_Give me a little credit, DiNozzo. I may not be as grand and glorious as you think you are, but I know how to do my job."_

"Didn't stop you from accusing me of murder."

"_Well, you shouldn't have treated it all as a big joke. Maybe then, I could have taken you seriously."_

This was an old argument. They still had it periodically, almost as if they were reminding each other why they hated each other. Sometimes, it was longer. Sometimes, it was shorter. This time, Tony went for the abbreviated version.

"So?" he asked.

One more long pause.

"_I'm assuming you have _something_ that might give you some hints?"_

"Yeah."

"_I'm not going to say yes or no until I know what you have."_

"I'm not going to share it over the phone," Tony said.

"_Fine. Where do you want to meet?"_

"I'll let you choose. See how magnanimous I am?"

"_Whatever. I'm surprised you even know what magnanimous means."_

"So I used it right?" Tony asked, feigning delight.

"_I'll call you, but I'm working. Why aren't you?"_

"I took the day off."

"_I'm surprised you bothered."_

"They'd have given me work to do if I went in."

"_Ha."_

Sacks hung up without another word and Tony sat back on his couch. Not an enthusiastic agreement, but if he could get Sacks to say that he'd help, he'd do it and his work would be thorough. It was just getting him to say it.

Well, being in the same room at the same time with Sacks should be interesting, at least.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Tim, do you want a ride home today?" Lewis asked.

"I shouldn't," Tim said, sighing. "I should just deal with it. Get on the bus and I can manage."

"Do you _want_ a ride home?" Lewis asked again.

Tim sighed. "Yeah."

"Okay. Then, I'll give you a ride home. And I'm going to say it again, Tim. You really should talk to someone about this. Why would you put yourself through this when someone could probably help you?"

Tim smiled wearily. If he talked to someone about how he felt, he'd have to explain why he felt that way. That seemed a lot worse and much more dangerous than simply dealing with his anxiety.

"It'll be fine. It was just the weekend, the conference. A couple of days and I'll be fine."

"How long have you been telling yourself that? A year?"

Tim just shrugged. He was too tired after the day he'd had to fight about it. Lewis could probably tell because he unexpectedly dropped it.

"Okay, Tim. I don't care what you had planned for this week. You need to give yourself some time. You can't measure up to whatever standards you think you need to meet if you're running on empty, and I can see it. You are. You can't even get mad at me for breaking my word that I wouldn't hound you about it!"

Tim laughed a little.

"I know you mean well."

"Good, but really, Tim. Don't come in this week. I know you feel safe in your office, but you feel safe at home, too. Stay home for a few days. Recharge. Get back into the groove. As much as I think you need help to get back to how you were before all this, you're even worse now than you usually are. So give yourself a chance to feel better before you throw yourself back into the stuff you do so you don't have to think about it."

Tim couldn't deny that just staying home for a few days really did sound good, like a chance to rest in a way he didn't let himself rest most of the time. Still, he did have a lot to do. There was work that he still needed to accomplish, even in the summertime.

"I don't know, Lewis."

"I do. Tim, take a break. You know you need it."

The hardest thing was that Tim knew that he did. He knew that Lewis was right. He knew it all, but it was so against his usual routine not to do anything for more than a day when he wasn't sick that he was very reluctant to start now.

"I'm tired, Lewis."

"Then, rest. And yeah, I'm sounding parental, but Tim, if you looked at yourself, you'd see why."

"I'll... think about it."

"Good. For now, I'll give you a ride home."

"Okay."

Tim shut everything down, gathered his stuff and left his office. He'd been there all day, reluctant to leave at all. To know that he wouldn't have to stress about riding public transit to get home was a major relief.

And it was another major relief that Lewis didn't try to get him to talk more on the way home. In fact, it was quiet in the car until he pulled up in front of Tim's building.

"Thanks again, Lewis," Tim said.

"Wait. Do you need groceries?"

"No. I'm good," Tim said, trying not to feel embarrassed.

"I'm serious, Tim. This isn't something I'm saying I'll start doing for you regularly, but do you need groceries?"

"No, Lewis. Really. I went shopping last week and I don't go more than a couple of times a month, usually. Thank you, but I really am fine for groceries."

"Okay, okay. Just let yourself feel better, Tim. Take the time you need."

Tim nodded and got out of the car. He hurried into his apartment and sat down on the couch with a sigh of relief. He was home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony walked into the restaurant Sacks had picked out and looked around for him.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Tony spotted Sacks over in a corner table in the main dining area. He looked at the hostess and smiled.

"No, thank you. I see my party."

He walked over and sat down across from Sacks. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time they'd seen each other.

"Pretty swanky place, Ron," he said. "You paying for this?"

"This is your fault, DiNozzo," Sacks said. "You pay."

"How much are you eating?"

"Not much unless you're particularly annoying."

"I'll work on that," Tony said and picked up the menu.

As he perused his choices and mentally recoiled at the prices, the waiter came over.

"Can I start you off with something to drink, sir?" he asked.

Tony was normally not a wine drinker, but he could see that the wine choices were actually very good and it would go well with what he'd chosen.

"Actually, I'd like to get the cheese and charcuterie plate. Why don't you pick out a wine that will pair with the items on that?"

"I can do that. For you, sir?" he asked Sacks.

Sacks raised an eyebrow at Tony and paused just long enough that Tony was afraid he really was going to go all out and ignore the subtle hint that they should just share the plate Tony ordered. Then, he closed the menu and handed it to the waiter.

"We'll share the plate," he said. "You can bring out a bottle of what you choose."

"I'll bring that out to you."

The waiter left.

"I hope you're not planning on getting drunk," Tony said.

"Nope. Can't think when you're drunk, but I'm not driving home. A glass or two won't hurt me."

"Why did you pick this place anyway?" Tony asked.

"Because I don't normally come to places like this and I'll bet you're too cheap to do it often either. We never are seen together, so if someone really does start watching you, we won't be associated with each other, and on nights like this, you don't get in without a reservation, so it's unlikely anyone will randomly come in and listen to us."

"So how did you?"

"I know a guy who _does_ normally come to places like this."

"And he got you a reservation?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. So you really _can_ get along with others," Tony said.

Sacks raised an eyebrow. "Most of the people I know don't treat murder as a joke, DiNozzo."

"I didn't."

"Could have fooled me."

They didn't get a chance to retread the argument yet again because the plate and wine came out.

"Here's your charcuterie plate, sirs. And I hope you don't mind a slightly different choice. This is an off-dry Riesling made in Mosul. I highly recommend it with our plate."

"Okay. I'll give it a try."

The waiter opened the bottle and poured a little into each glass. Tony didn't consider himself a wine connoisseur, but he was okay with the choice once he tasted it. He nodded to the waiter and he left them to their shared plate.

For a few minutes, they actually did just eat. It was as if, by common consent, they had decided to enjoy something before getting down to business. The meats and cheeses were good, and the waiter had been right. The wine did go well with the items that came on the plate.

Then, Sacks set his glass aside.

"All right, DiNozzo. What's got you saying that we got everything wrong?"

"Not just you. The police department, too."

"Well?"

"Tim McGee."

"Why? What did he tell you that he didn't tell anyone else a year ago?"

"Did you know that he was acquainted with John Benedict before he was killed?"

Sacks looked at him for a long moment and then sat back in his chair. He was silent for a few seconds.

"Did you?" Tony asked, knowing what the answer was.

"No. And I can say that no one investigating the case did, either. How do _you_ know?"

"Tim McGee told me."

"He _told_ you? Just like that?"

Tony smiled. "No. Not just like that. I was in the alley looking at the crime scene to get a feel for it and he was there. He basically had a panic attack just being asked about it and when I went to his office later, one of the other professors commented that I was the second detective to come to Dr. McGee's office, and she said that the last one had been a year ago. When I asked Dr. McGee about it, he admitted it."

"Why was Benedict there?"

"Obviously, to ask for McGee's help with something, but I don't know what it was."

"Why not?"

"Because asking for details triggered a panic attack. Dr. McGee is probably just about as traumatized by what happened last year as he was when it actually happened. He's terrified of someone coming after him. He said that he'd gone for weeks feeling like he was being followed everywhere. He's so afraid of the police that he probably wouldn't call them if he needed help. I decided I needed to respect that."

"So if that's the case, why did he lie about it?"

"Fear, I think. He said that it was obvious to him that no one else knew anything about what Benedict had been doing, and if Benedict hadn't told anyone in the police department, he wasn't going to, either. Now, I think there's more to it than that, but given what Archer did to him..."

Sacks raised an eyebrow and Tony shrugged.

"I watched the interrogation."

"Not pretty, was it."

"You watched it?"

It was Sacks' turn to shrug.

"After you said you wanted my help, I figured I should know what I might be getting into. And that guy should be in prison, not working as if he didn't do anything wrong."

"How did you get that information without letting anyone know why?"

"I played nice, DiNozzo."

"You do that?"

"When people deserve it," Sacks said pointedly. "Now, is that all?"

"What else I have is mostly conjecture at this point."

"Okay."

"I think that, somehow, Benedict found out about some kind of corruption in the district, but he didn't know who the actual source of the corruption was. He just knew it was happening, but he didn't want to say anything unless he had definite evidence. Didn't want to expose someone to attack without knowing for sure that he was right. But he was sure enough that something was wrong and so he didn't dare tell _anyone_ in the district. He went outside it completely to find someone who might be able to get him some evidence. I don't know why Tim McGee and not another professor, but he went to someone who would be able to use computers to get the information he wanted."

Sacks took another sip of his wine and absently ate a piece of cheese from the plate as he thought about what Tony had said.

"If you're right, that was pretty stupid of him, you know."

"He'd been in the district for twenty years."

"So he should have known better than to do something like this on his own without anyone. If he was so convinced, why not come to us?"

"Maybe he didn't trust the FBI either. Considering the fact that I found a memo in the case file indicating that Dr. McGee's witness wasn't valid because he was scared when he was probably the only person with the truth, that might be a genuine problem."

"Regardless, this was a stupid thing to do."

"Benedict probably didn't want to implicate someone he knew."

"So instead of sharing out his information and perhaps giving someone a little bit of discomfort, he hid everything to save someone from an investigation...the one he was pursuing. Sorry, DiNozzo. It's stupid. You cops take that whole band of brothers thing way too seriously," Sacks said. "Sure, you have to be able to rely on each other and you don't throw each other under the bus, but when there's a bad apple, you throw it out. You don't keep it around, hoping that it'll miraculously ripen up again. It won't. In fact, it'll be more likely to make the rest of the apples rotten, too. Any of them it touches."

Tony tried to protest, but Sacks wasn't done.

"Doing this completely on his own only got him killed _and_ put a civilian in a situation that he still hasn't recovered from. Plus, because he's dead, unless that civilian can overcome his own problems, whatever he found out is lost. He might have cared about supporting the people he worked with, but if he was right, that means that someone he worked with didn't feel the same way and was completely willing to set aside that loyalty to commit murder."

Tony wanted to be angry about it and the irrational part of him was, but he actually couldn't be because he knew that Sacks had a valid point. Hadn't he thought about that himself, only without the _stupid _part? He didn't want to but he had to admit it, especially when he was hoping to get Sacks' help in this.

"Yeah, I know."

Sacks raised an eyebrow. "Are you actually agreeing with me on something?" he asked.

"Yeah. Reluctantly. I guess even a stopped clock can be right twice a day."

Sacks rolled his eyes. "So where are you going from here?"

"I'm hoping that Dr. McGee will give me some more information, because the more I look at all the pieces, the less sense it makes as it stands."

"So you're kind of stalled right now."

"Yeah."

There was a silence and then, Tony swallowed his pride and just asked.

"So...are you going to help me out or not?"

Another pause, and then, Sacks actually managed to surprise him.

"Did you really think I'd say no?"

"Quite frankly, yeah."

Sacks rolled his eyes.

"I don't have to like you to realize that there's something that needs to be done here, Tony," he said. "And I don't like you. You're way too willing to ignore the rules and regulations just because you've decided your way is better. Your way is not necessarily the law and as a law enforcement officer, you should know better. But I know why you're doing it differently this time and I can agree with it...until you have enough evidence to support what you're claiming or the evidence that you were wrong. Either way, I'm not keeping this a secret forever. This doesn't just affect you. There's a right and a wrong in this case, and no matter what else, Tim McGee deserves justice."

Tony was so surprised at how Sacks ended his little speech that he forgot to be insulted by how he'd started it.

"Tim McGee?"

"Yes. All indications are that he's innocent in all this, but he's the one alive to suffer for it. So that needs to be made right. If he's too afraid to say something right now, maybe finding out the truth will give him what he needs."

Tony didn't know what to say, so he was silent for a few seconds.

"What? Surprised that I care about something like that?"

"No. Shocked that you and I actually had the same thought about something."

"I'll keep looking. Quietly. For now. Anything else?"

"Yeah. One thing."

"What?"

"Thanks, Ron."

The eyebrow went up again.

"As long as you're on the level."

"I am. I know the rules and regs. I just think that there are times when we have to set them aside to really get the job done right."

"Yeah, that's your problem."

"Yours is thinking that the law is always perfect. It's not."

Again, back to the old retread, but still, Tony truly felt relieved that he'd have someone else watching his back. He didn't like Sacks, but he knew he could trust him.

"You should take the rest of the wine home," Sacks said, standing up. "You don't even need a receipt. I'll be in touch."

Then, he walked away. Tony sat there until the waiter came back. He did decide to take the rest of the bottle home. It was a good wine and he'd already paid for it anyway.

Then, he went back to his own place. It had always been his safe haven, the place he could escape to when he needed it. He had his movie collection. He had his music. He could cook whenever he felt the urge. It was all he needed for contentment, but at this moment, he couldn't help but wonder the level of desperation Tim felt in his need for a safe place to hide.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up halfway through the night from a nightmare. It wasn't unexpected. Just disappointing. Instead of trying to get back to sleep right away, Tim got out of bed and walked to his window looking out over the city. He'd chosen a high rise because he'd been so excited to get a full-time position. He'd done the whole adjunct thing after his first postdoc and it hadn't been fun. A full-time job doing what he loved...or used to love. Now, he felt like it was the only place where he could see the world without feeling that world cave in on him. He sat down on the floor beside one of the huge windows and just looked outside, wishing that he could have that same feeling of happiness and enjoyment this view used to give him.

Maybe someday.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"_Okay, Detective, you need to tell me what you really want from me," Tim said. "All the verbal jousting aside, is what you want from me illegal?"_

"_No, but only because I'm asking you as part of an investigation. If you did it on your own, it would be. ...but no one else knows it's an investigation."_

_Tim furrowed his brow. "Why not?"_

"_Because it's the people I work with that might be the problem."_

"_Might be?"_

"_I don't have names or anything yet. That's what I'm hoping to get from all this and until I can, I don't want to risk anyone I work with knowing what I'm doing. ...in case that one person is the one I'm investigating."_

_Tim sat back in his chair. Up to this point, it had been academic to him. Benedict had come by three times over the last week but he hadn't really been willing to say anything about what he actually wanted. He'd just been asking questions, seemingly probing about Tim's ability._

"_So do you want me to get in with your ID and then remove the evidence that I was in there or do you want me to get in without that?"_

"_You could do that?" Benedict asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_I'm betting that your police system isn't any harder than MIT, and I hacked MIT's system when I was in grad school."_

"_And that's okay?"_

"_I didn't do anything. I just tried it to see if I could. I'm not the only person who's done that, but I don't brag about it."_

"_Until now?"_

_Tim smiled. "You asked. I answered. That's not bragging. I'm assuming you won't go back to my old professors and tell them."_

"_True enough. If you can get by without letting anyone know it was my ID, then, I'd say that it had better be you using my login information. I don't want you getting caught hacking."_

"_I don't, either," Tim said._

_Benedict smiled. "So, will you help me, Professor?"_

_Tim smiled back. "How could I not? I may not be a cop, but I care about doing the right thing. However, in order for this to work, I'll need as many details as you can give me. I don't like going into something blind. That'll make it more likely that I get caught, and I don't want to do it here on campus...or my own place, if I can avoid it. Do you have a computer at your place? A good internet connection?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Good enough?"_

"_What's good enough?" Benedict asked. "Actually, never mind. You come over to my place tonight and see if what I have is good enough. Here's my address." He wrote it out on a piece of paper._

"_Okay. I've never seen how cops live."_

_Benedict chuckled. "I promise. It's not that exciting."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up early the next morning and his mind was still full of the previous day's events. There was so much that had happened, from Tim's surprising confession to Sacks' willingness to help. Even his mentor would have to agree that Tony was justified in dwelling on it when not at work.

Speaking of work, he'd have to go in and act like everything was normal. Well, he was a pretty good actor when it came right down to it, but still, he wondered if Benedict had felt the same way. Had it been hard for him to go to work day after day and never say a word? Had he, in fact, _not _succeeded in doing so? Perhaps that was what had led to his murder. He had let something slip to the one person who shouldn't have heard it.

He sat up and got out of bed, walking quickly into his main room. He sat down and turned on the movie he'd been watching the night before, _The Street with No Name_. He supposed it was kind of silly to be watching these old undercover movies just because of what he was investigating, but he'd often been like that. When a case started getting to him, he tended to pursue that genre. In this case, it was the FBI who was doing all the work. They were the heroes. Sacks would probably approve, Tony thought ruefully. Oh, well. The movie had been made in 1948. It was an oldie.

He let himself just sit and watch for a few minutes and then he left the movie on while he got himself ready. He made coffee and decided that he needed a real breakfast this morning. So he got out the ingredients to make pancakes. As he prepped for breakfast, his mind went again to the Benedict case. He was still surprised that Archer hadn't had any kind of punishment. Or maybe he had. Now, Tony began to consider if he could trust that his superior wasn't part of what Benedict had worried about. Travers had always been a straight shooter, but maybe he was corrupt, too. How better to hide your corruption than to act like someone who was upfront about everything.

Then, a line from the movie penetrated his thoughts.

"_There's only one scientific way to get rid of a stoolie: let the cops bump him off."_

It really didn't have anything to do with his current situation, but he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Benedict had likely been killed by a fellow cop. To kill one's own was a special level of heinous. Tony hated knowing it. He hated that he could see it far too easily, and most of all, he hated that Benedict had probably been right about it all.

Could he act normal today? Yeah. He could. Could he keep it up long-term? He wasn't so sure. Oh, well. He had to start somewhere. He couldn't just take every day off until he figured this out. He had no idea how long it would take and he liked his job. He liked where he worked and he enjoyed the people he worked with. He was starting to make a real life for himself here in Baltimore and so, no matter how much jumping around he'd done in the past, right now, he liked where he was and he didn't want to give that up.

With the movie continuing, Tony began making his pancakes. They smelled good and they tasted even better. He'd made too much batter just for himself, but he enjoyed pancakes in the evening, too, so he made up the whole batch and then put the extras in the fridge. He turned off the movie, gathered his stuff and headed to work, hoping for a normal day.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up late, but that was because it had taken him a long time to get back to sleep. When he woke up, just the thought of going out and trying to confront the world made him tense. No matter how little he wanted to admit to his ongoing wimpiness, he had to admit that he couldn't handle it today.

But that left him with another problem.

How was he going to fill his day when he didn't fill it with his job? Since he'd mostly stopped writing, and he didn't feel comfortable going very many places, it suddenly hit him just how little he had in his life right now. Why it was hitting him at this moment, he didn't know. Maybe it was just because this was the first time he'd allowed himself unscheduled time. He filled his time, but it was almost always with work.

_When was the last time I really took time off?_

Before Benedict had been killed. And since he was alone, he could be honest with himself and admit that it wasn't just because of tenure. Yes, that worried him, far more than he knew it should, but that wasn't it. Time off meant facing his life as it actually was, thinking about the problems he knew he still had, and all that empty time he always felt he needed to fill with _something_.

Reluctantly, Tim got out of bed and walked to the window again, looking out over the city of Baltimore. His windows faced the Inner Harbor and he had a great view. He stood there, looking out at the city, remembering his excitement in moving here, knowing he had a great job and a great university, doing what he loved.

_And now, I'm just desperate to keep my job so I don't have to look for something else._

He hated how he felt. He hated how changed his outlook was. He hated that he felt powerless to do anything about it.

_Maybe I could do something about it._

But what?

Tim stood there, looking out at the world through a pane of glass and then, he decided to at least go through the semblance of his routine. Instead of going down to the gym, he did some exercises in his front room, making sure not to thump on the floor too loudly so that he didn't disturb his downstairs neighbors. Then, he got his coffee brewing while he went in to shower. He came out and grabbed his usual cereal, a tradition from his poor college days. His mom had always lamented the fact that her usually-mature son had this childish streak in him, but he just enjoyed this sugary, totally unhealthy cereal. The fact that it was shaped like dinosaurs was only a bonus. Every time he had this, he couldn't help but smile, at least for a few seconds. It brought back such good memories. High school hadn't been great, but college had been, and grad school had been even better, albeit more stressful. Dinosaur cereal had seen him through all those days.

As he ate, he forced himself to think back to his earlier thought.

Was there really anything he _could_ do? He was a major wimp, as could be seen by his lingering problems, but...

_Do I still have the stuff I found?_

That was the question. Initially, he hadn't ever done anything to help Benedict unless they were at Benedict's home, but after a couple of weeks with his not-so-great computer and his not-so-fast internet, Tim had relented and started working on it from his own home computer and internet, both of which were top notch, originally for his gaming. No buffering on _his_ computer.

But he had given things to Benedict as he had found them.

Tim felt his eyes drawn to the computer corner where he had all the parts that he liked to tinker with. Somewhere in that mess was the computer he had put together for the specific purpose of working on Benedict's investigation.

The question was whether or not he dared open up that part of his life again. He wasn't so sure about doing it. He didn't want the risk of being found out and killed. He didn't want the risk of being dragged back into something that had blown up in his face.

But he still wanted to do the right thing.

What was that? In this case, what _was_ the right choice? Was it to let things stay as they were and just hope that nothing else went wrong? Or was it to risk death by revealing what he knew? This wasn't an academic question. For Tim, this really was what he saw as his choice. Possible death or miserable life. What kind of a rotten choice was that? He didn't think it was quite fair.

But he had a feeling that, even if he got a reprieve, that detective wouldn't let things lie. So the question was whether he'd let himself get pushed into another meltdown simply because he'd refused to think about it in advance. Maybe if he forced himself to look into what he still had to offer, he wouldn't come off as such a weakling.

He finished eating his cereal and decided to clean his kitchen to put off making the decision. But now that he'd thought of it once, his mind was on his computer junk. It was one of his failings. Had been for his whole life, at least that he could remember. Once he got something into his mind, it was very difficult to set it aside and not think about it.

He finished cleaning the kitchen and sat down on a stool and then stared at his computer stuff.

Could he do this?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony's phone rang halfway through the day, but he was busy and so he ignored it.

"So, what did you do with your day off?" Clark asked as they searched through files.

"Not much. I mostly just relaxed."

"You couldn't do that over the weekend?"

Tony laughed. "Sure, I could. But I could also do it on Monday. It's not like I use up my personal days every year as it is. I can take a day or two."

"You okay, Tony?"

Tony looked up and felt his brow furrow.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You've seemed a little distracted the last few days. You still thinking about the..." he lowered his voice. "...the Benedict case?"

Tony figured he could admit to that much without admitting to investigating it.

"Yeah. Some. Can't look at Archer the same way."

"I don't blame you, but I really think he learned his lesson."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Learned his lesson? If anything, I think the only thing he learned was that he could get away with beating someone up because everyone else was mad, too."

"Tony..."

"I watched the interrogation, Clark. He shouldn't have been allowed to get away with that," Tony said, keeping his voice low. "It wasn't just wrong. It was criminal."

"You _watched_... How?"

"Sweet-talked Germaine."

"I didn't think she was vulnerable to sweet talk. Never worked for me."

"Guess your talk isn't sweet enough, Clark," Tony said.

"Yeah, right. Tony..."

"Are you going to try to justify it, Clark? Really?"

"No, but..."

"Hey, Baretta! You left your badge in the car!"

Then, they both stopped talking about it as Archer came in with his partner, Allan Blaser who was holding out Archer's badge.

"Better not leave that lying around, genius."

Archer laughed and took it. Then, the two of them started talking more softly about whatever case they were working on.

"Baretta," Tony muttered. "Archer's no Baretta."

Clark chuckled. "It's been his nickname for years. Actually, I thought he was talking about the gun at first. I never saw the show."

"What? You've got to watch _Baretta_. Classic detective series. I think _Toma_ was better, but it only went one season. Besides, the gun is spelled differently."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. The show is with an a. The gun is an e."

"Huh. I had no idea."

Then, Archer and Blaser walked over to their desks which were closer to Tony and Clark so the conversation ended. They didn't stay silent since that would look weird. They refocused on the files and continued working without any distractions for the rest of the afternoon.

As he was leaving for the evening, he looked at his phone and saw that he had a message. He checked it and was floored.

"_Hello, Detective. This is Tim McGee. I might have...something to tell you. Maybe."_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

That was it. No good-bye. No details. Nothing. Just that single hesitant sentence, but it might as well have been a full-length dissertation for the shock Tony felt at Tim actually making the effort to contact him. He didn't dare call back while he was still at work, but he wanted to.

"Hey, Tony. Want to go and get a drink?" Clark asked.

Tony wanted to say no. He wanted to hurry home to call Tim back and get at what he might have to share. However, he rarely begged off getting a drink after work, and he didn't want to alienate his partner. So he smiled, put his phone away and nodded.

"Just one. Otherwise, I'll have to take another day off tomorrow."

"Oh, come on," Clark said. "I know for a fact that you can drink most of the guys here under the table."

"Well, I'm trying to cut back," Tony said. And that really was true, and Clark would realize it.

"Probably a good idea, actually," Clark said. "Can't stay young forever."

"Well, my liver certainly can't," Tony said.

They laughed and headed for a local bar that a lot of the cops liked to patronize. They each got a beer and sat at the bar, mostly just chatting and listening to the talk going on around them. It was nice just to relax for a little while, even though he did still want to get home.

Then, suddenly, as they were walking out of the bar, the conversation became serious.

"Tony, I don't want you to think that I'm trying to say that what Archer did was right."

"Good."

"But it was a year ago. Bringing it up now will really shake things up and not in a good way."

"You realize that you just described our entire job, Clark," Tony said. "That's what we do as investigators. We shake things up."

"I'm not saying that, but you weren't here when it happened and you didn't see."

"I know I'm the new guy," Tony said, "but I'm no probie. I've been a cop for a while, Clark, and what I saw on that video was not someone who just suddenly lost control. Archer could have controlled himself and chose not to. He was furious from the moment he stepped through the door. He was ready to attack, not ready to get a statement from a willing witness. Why in the world did Travers let it slide? Even if McGee didn't want to press charges, didn't Archer at least get a reprimand?"

"I don't know. No one was advertising it, and no one was talking about it except in very quiet voices. No one has said a word about it since it happened, but it cooled everyone down real quick. No one even protested when the FBI took it over, not even Archer."

"If I could go back in time and be there, I would have pushed for more than what he got, no matter what it was," Tony said.

"You say that now, but it's easy to look back and say it. It's another thing to do it in the moment."

"I know."

"Tony, just let it go. Benedict's case is cold. No one knows what he was doing or why he was doing it. I mean, for all any of us know, he could have been crooked himself."

Tony had to bite his tongue to keep from contradicting Clark's words. He only knew they were definitely wrong because of talking to Tim. Since he hadn't told anyone about it, he couldn't exactly explain how he knew that they were all wrong.

"That doesn't change what Archer did."

"I know."

Finally, Tony forced a smile. "Well, I'm glad I'm your partner, not Archer's."

Clark smiled a little reluctantly. "I wasn't sure about you, to be honest, but Archer didn't want to have to take the new guy, all things considered, and so things got shuffled around. You're not bad."

"Thanks a lot."

"Anytime, DiNozzo."

They parted ways and Tony went home, a little disappointed in Clark's view, but unsurprised by it. Everyone probably knew that what had happened was extremely wrong, but since it had managed to happen without much attention, why stir things up again in a world that tarnished all cops with the same corrupt brush at the slightest hint of wrongdoing. He understood, but he didn't like it.

It only made Tony more determined to figure this out.

So once he got home, he dialed the number that had come up on his phone since Tim hadn't even left that much in his message.

The phone rang five times and Tony was ready to assume that Tim had either changed his mind or was just unable to hear his phone...but there was a connection.

"_Hello?"_

"This is Detective DiNozzo," Tony said. "Dr. McGee?"

"_Yes. Hello, Detective."_

"You said you had something to tell me."

"_Yeah. Maybe."_

"Maybe? Do you or don't you?"

"_Well... it's hard to explain, and I don't want to give details over the phone. We never did before, and I don't want to start now."_

"Okay. It's getting kind of late. Do you want to wait?"

"_I'm...not really all that tired at the moment, but you probably have to work tomorrow."_

"Yeah, but I do pretty much every day and I never know when I might have to go to work outside of regular hours."

"_Okay."_

Tony could almost see Tim shuffling his feet uncomfortably, not wanting to invite Tony over and yet knowing that he had to do _something_ since this was happening on his initiative.

"_Then... I guess you can come to my place and see what I'm talking about."_

Tony smiled a little.

"Okay. Where do I go?"

"_It's a high rise in downtown."_

Tim gave the address and Tony could hear his reluctance. He wasn't sure whether or not he should say something about it or not.

"Okay. I can find that."

"_Call up when you get here and I'll buzz you in."_

"Will you?" Tony asked, obliquely acknowledging Tim's obviously uncertainty.

There was a pause.

"_Yes."_

"Okay. Be there in a few."

"_Okay. Bye."_

Tim hung up before Tony could say anything else. Tony wondered just how productive this would be. Tim sounded anything but enthused to be talking to him. The last time they'd talked, he'd had a panic attack. He'd apparently told no one anything for a year. What could he really expect from a guy who was clearly not really all there? It wasn't his fault, but the fact was that he seemed more than a little off. Was this worth it?

But the answer had to be yes. Tim was actually trying to do something, and even if it didn't pan out, he deserved to have someone listen without attacking him for it.

That much decided, Tony drove over to Tim's apartment building. It was, indeed, a high rise. It was funny, but this didn't seem at all like the kind of place Tony would have thought someone like Tim would live. It was too...hip and trendy. He saw Tim as being the kind of person who would live in an industrial loft conversion or an old walk-up.

The security was good, though. Maybe that was it. He walked over and called up to Tim's apartment.

"_Hello?"_

"It's Tony DiNozzo," Tony said, dropping his title in the interest of not advertising to the world what he was.

"_Okay. I'm in number 1415."_

There was a buzz and the door unlocked. Tony took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor and then walked to the designated apartment and knocked. He heard someone walk to the door and then there was a long silence. Tony was about to knock again when he heard the sound of a chain being undone. Then, silence. Then, a dead bolt. Then, finally, the door opened, revealing Tim, dressed in sweats, not looking like he was very happy (par for the course as far as that went).

"Detective," he said, his voice low. "Come in."

Tony stepped in and was mostly unsurprised when Tim closed the door, turned the dead bold, put on the chain and there was a bar lock that he hadn't heard which looked like it had been added later. He looked around and found a very interesting glimpse into who Tim was. The main room wasn't huge, but it was wide open, and Tim had divided up the space with shelving units. One side was full of books, and there was a desk facing the window with an old typewriter on it. The other side looked like a computer store had exploded. There was a couch and a TV, and then, the kitchen was on one wall. There were a lot of windows. It looked like Tim had a corner unit.

"Okay, Professor. What is it that you maybe have to show me?"

Tim took a breath and then walked over to the kitchen counter where there was a computer sitting on it. It had a homemade look to it.

"You keep your computer on the counter, huh?"

"No. I have the other bedroom for my computer. This is what I have to show you. Maybe. It's the hard drive I used for... for the work I was doing with John."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Since when were you on a first-name basis with Benedict?"

"Since that's what he told me to call him," Tim said, sounding a little irritated. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not. So what does this old computer have to do with it?"

"It's not old. I only built it this morning, but it has the hard drive I used when I was doing the work John asked me to do."

"Okay. So if this is what you used, why is it only maybe?"

Tim actually looked embarrassed.

"I haven't opened it up yet. When I was working on it, I almost never kept all the things I discovered. I sent them on to John. It was supposed to keep me safe in case someone realized what I was doing. After everything...last year... well, I took the whole computer apart and hid the pieces in all my junk so that no one would know. This morning, I found the hard drive and built the computer using my spare parts, but I haven't opened it."

"Why not?" Tony asked, impatiently.

Tim's embarrassment deepened.

"I wasn't sure I could handle it. Look, Detective, I know I'm an idiot. I know that I'm a weakling. That's just my lot in life right now. Maybe it always will be, but there are times when I just can't bring myself to do some things. It's too hard. This was one of those. I couldn't do it, so I didn't."

"And me being here will make it easier?" Tony asked, doubtfully.

To his surprise, Tim actually smiled, even laughed a little, although he still looked embarrassed.

"No. Actually, it will be harder, but I hoped that, with you here, I'd be too embarrassed not to do it."

"Well, I'm ready to put that to the test," Tony said. "If you are."

"I might be."

"Now, don't you remember all this stuff you did? Do you have to have the computer to tell me what was going on?"

Tim suddenly got an expression on his face that was so extremely different from every other expression Tony had seen that he wasn't even sure what it was, but it wasn't fearful or angry or anxious.

It might be earnest.

"I'm not a cop, Detective," Tim said, "but don't mistake my different career for complete ignorance of what you do. I know you need evidence. I know I'm not reliable as a witness. I know that the police ignored the things I said...and since I _was _lying about some of it, I guess I can't blame them. Maybe it was obvious that I was lying about something and so they assumed I was lying about everything. I don't know. But I know that you're only humoring me. If I can manage to get through this, but I don't give you any support for what I'm saying, you'll leave here and decide that it's just too bad that I'm in such a bad state and you won't take me seriously. If you're really trying to figure this out, you _need_ to take me seriously...if for no other reason than that the things I was doing got John killed."

That was probably the longest speech Tony had heard from Tim and it was certainly the most he'd said with the least issues. And Tony realized that he _was_ approaching this a lot in the vein Tim had described. He really wasn't sure about Tim having anything of real value to share, forgetting that Tim was admitting to working with Benedict which meant, of course, he had _something_.

"Would an apology help?"

Tim's eyebrow went up.

"For what?"

"For doing exactly what you said I was doing. You're right about the cops and the FBI. They assumed that you were trying to be helpful because of what Archer did to you and so you made up things that would be useful in the case. Your testimony was basically ignored."

Tim nodded and looked away.

"I don't know which one was worse," he said softly. "Seeing John gunned down or that cop beating me up for being at fault."

"I'm sorry for both of them."

"Me, too."

A brief silence.

"Okay, Professor..."

"Tim."

"What?"

"My name is Tim. The only people who call me a professor are my students. Even my colleagues call me by my first name."

"I haven't been a college student in years and, no offense, but I have no interest in going back."

"I would. In a heartbeat."

"You're obviously a nerd. That doesn't surprise me. I'm Tony."

"Okay."

"All right... Tim. Can you try to show me what there is, if anything?"

"Yeah."

Tony walked over to the counter and scooted a stool over so he could sit next to Tim as he booted the computer up to see what was still available.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Tim was more than a little nervous as he waited for the computer to load so that he could see if there was going to be anything to support what he needed to say. Would it be better or worse if the files he thought might be there actually were? He wasn't really sure at this point, but with Tony sitting there, waiting for him to talk about it, he didn't feel like he could pretend that there was nothing before he knew for certain.

It was just a heavy silence while they waited. This wasn't the exact same setup he'd had last year. The computer he'd built to do the work initially had been much faster, but he'd already used some of those components in other activities. So the computer wasn't exactly cutting edge, all in all. But for this it didn't need to be.

The computer finished booting and Tony leaned forward, his face scrunching up.

"What is that?"

"It's a Linux-based interface. I rewrote some of the coding so that I could have a GUI running simultaneously with a CLI. I started with a Wayland base, even though I've liked X11, but things are moving toward Wayland and it's not bad, more streamlined, but I like to tinker with my OS and so..."

"I understood about three words you just said," Tony said, interrupting. "In fact, I think half of what you just said was random letters."

This was way too much like some of his more impatient students, Tim decided. Tony had asked. Why didn't he actually want to hear the answer?

He tried not to roll his eyes. "It's like Windows, only I can change anything I want."

"Okay. Can you tell from here?"

"No. I have to look around a little."

Tim opened up the hard drive and started scanning through the contents. There were literally hundreds of folders, all with content, but that didn't matter to Tim. It didn't take very long to get to the information from Benedict. It was a simple folder entitled...

"_Beaver Den_?" Tony read, incredulously.

"Yes."

"Why would you name your folder something like that? Have you even _seen_ a beaver?"

"Yes, but that's not really the issue. Would _you_ guess that it might be important?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, probably not."

"Exactly. Yes, it's silly, but I wanted a little extra security, just in case someone got into it. There are security safeguards in place to keep people out, but nothing is perfect and having all these folders with encoded content means that a person looking has to _know_ what he's looking for, like I do...or be extremely lucky."

Tony seemed surprised, and Tim found that he could smile at that.

"Tony, my area of expertise is cryptology and cybersecurity. This is actually pretty tame for what I often do when I want my files protected."

Tony smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm not used to people who live their lives in the ivory tower being so aware of the real world."

"The ivory tower is still part of the real world," Tim said. "We might ignore it sometimes, but that doesn't mean we don't know that it exists."

"Sorry again," Tony said. "Most of the people I deal with on a daily basis are pretty much scum. Sometimes, there's the feeling that no one understands what the world can be like except us...because we see the worst of what it can be."

Tim hesitated as a question came into his mind. Then, he decided just to ask it.

"Is that why that detective beat me up? Too used to... scum?"

"I don't know," Tony said, but he seemed to be hedging.

"But?" Tim asked when Tony didn't go on. "That sounded like there was something else you could have said."

Tony looked distinctly uncomfortable. Tim sighed.

"Look, Detective. My opinion of the police couldn't drop a whole lot lower than it is right now. I haven't exactly had the best interactions with them. Just talking about it isn't going to make things worse."

"Won't make it better."

"Nothing could at this point," Tim said, knowing he sounded a little bitter. "But?"

"But I don't think so. I think he was mad and wanted to take it out on someone...and you were right there."

"Oh."

That certainly didn't make it any better although Tim could at least appreciate Tony's honesty. He was admitting that there probably wasn't a good reason for what had happened, choosing to admit the truth rather than make up a lie.

"Sorry," Tony said. "Someone once told me that apologies are a sign of weakness, and that might be true, but it's better to apologize and be honest than to say nothing and lie. I said it before, but I'll say it again. What happened to you was wrong."

"Yeah." Tim felt himself tense up at the mention of it and he tried to set it aside so that he didn't have to think about it any more than was absolutely necessary.

"So...anything in there?" Tony asked, finally.

"Yeah."

Tim turned back to the computer and brought up the files.

"How did you get this?"

"John gave me his login information," Tim said and took a breath. "He didn't want me to have to hack into the system when I could get in and just erase all my keystrokes after I finished."

"You can do that?"

"Yes."

"Did he tell you why he started doing this?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay, Tim. I know you're dancing around talking about it and I think I get why at least a little bit, but just tell me. What was going on?"

Tim nodded, knowing it was necessary but afraid to talk about it. Another deep, calming breath. He focused on trying to speak clearly without stammering. The beginning should be easy enough.

"John told me that he was searching for some case file. He didn't tell me what that was, but that he was looking for it and he came across something else. It was a file from a case he had worked a few years ago, one where their prime suspect had got away when they had thought they were right on top of him. What it showed was evidence being intentionally misfiled."

"How could he tell?"

"I don't know, but I'd guess he knew what he was talking about. He said that he couldn't figure out who had moved the evidence, who had hidden this file or anything, but he found another file or two that had indicated a smuggling operation was being helped by the Baltimore police, and he wanted to figure out who was involved. He was sure it was someone in his district and so he hoped that someone who knew computers better than he did would be able to find something."

"Why you?"

"Because no one would expect him to pick me," Tim said.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Really. That's exactly what he told me. I said that I didn't really do the kind of thing he was asking for. My work was more esoteric, but he said that if I could do what I did, I should be able to handle what he was asking."

"Was he right?"

"Yes. It wasn't guaranteed, but it turned out to be relatively simple."

"Really?"

"Because I create security systems and analyze security systems, one of the things I also study is how to break through the security. If I don't know what is possible, I can't anticipate. So I'm not bad at hacking."

The eyebrow went up again and Tim smiled a little.

"No, I'm not going to tell you how good I am..._Detective_. Let's just leave it at not bad."

For a second, Tim worried that he'd gone too far, but then, Tony smiled.

"Okay, okay. You got me. Go on. What was he asking you to do?"

"He wanted me to find the origin of the files that were hidden and he wanted me to see if I could find who was responsible for tipping off some of their suspects."

"How far back?"

"Five years. And then, he would periodically ask me to check the current cases to see if there was any sign of the same signature."

"So what do you have on this computer?"

"The..." Tim stopped. "I didn't usually keep everything, you know. Usually, I just handed it over to him. I didn't want to keep copies just in case. So..."

"Hey, Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"What's on the computer?"

Tim felt his face redden in embarrassment at his obvious difficulty. He shook his head and looked at the monitor. As he had suspected, this was the material he'd found very last.

"This is the last stuff I found. I never got a chance to give it to him...because of..."

"Yeah, I know. What is it?"

"It was a new case file. It was tracking the movements of someone they suspected of selling guns on the black market, but the guy had skipped town, fled to Morocco just before they could arrest him. I got a username, but I couldn't figure out the owner because it was someone who was actively covering their tracks. I was going to show it to John and see what he wanted to do but..."

"Right. Benedict apparently thought it was someone within the district. Could you tell if it was someone who was doing the same thing you were?"

"No, but it was someone who was pretty good at using computers, better than average, but not more than that. If I had kept trying last year, I probably could have got an IP address, but I never did after..."

"Could you do it now?"

Tim felt his heart plummet to his shoes and he felt sick at the idea. He felt his heart start pounding and his hands shook a little.

"Oh...I don't... I don't know. Is it... I..." He was heartily embarrassed by what he knew was an overreaction, especially when Tony had already seen one of his meltdowns just the day before. He had started to fix the initial impression, but now, with that one request, Tim felt himself falling back into that panic mode.

He felt hands on his shoulders, turning him away from the computer, and he found himself staring at Tony, feeling even more embarrassed and he tried to pull away. In fact, he did. He pulled away and started to run, but his panic was more than likely going to make him pass out before he could get very far.

Hands on his shoulders again, but this time, those hands directed him to a chair and then pushed his head down between his knees.

"Just breathe. Don't think about anything else. I know that I'm not the one you want to have here right at the moment, but ignore that, too. Just breathe."

Tim wasn't sure how much he liked having his head between his knees, being held that way by Tony, but at the same time, he could admit that he wasn't going to pass out for the moment. That was good. Sort of.

After a minute or two, the panic began to ebb. Tim was surprised that Tony wasn't speaking or anything. He was just sitting there, forcing Tim to have his head upside down. Then, Tim pushed up experimentally at the hands holding him down and the hands disappeared.

"Feeling better?" Tony asked as he sat down across from Tim.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"This happen a lot?"

Tim shook his head. "Only when I get stuck remembering."

"How often?"

"Quite a bit the last week or so, but not for a long time before that. I don't think about it if I can avoid it. And during the school year, I can. Too much else to do."

"That seems like a bad plan, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Tim said. He started to stand up, but Tony put his hand out to stop him.

"I think you'll want to wait for a bit before you get up. You're still looking pretty pale. And whether you asked me or not, you're not getting over it and that means this is going to keep coming up for you. Do you really want to deal with this kind of thing your whole life? You're one step above being totally housebound. Is that what you want?"

"No, I'm not! I go to work. I go shopping when I need to. I went to a conference last week! I'm not even close to housebound."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You're not? You couldn't keep talking to me because you needed to get to a place where you felt safe. You feel so much anxiety about this stuff that you barely dared invite me over here. You have three locks on your door, plus the buzzer just to get into the building. How often do you just stay home so that you can feel safe from the rest of the world?"

This time, Tim did stand up. He felt a little lightheaded, but he managed to stand on his own two feet. He walked over to the window and stared out at the beautiful view south, toward the Inner Harbor. There was a long silence.

"If that's all you can do today, that's fine, Professor," Tony said. "I'll let myself out."

Tim heard him stand and walk toward the door. He could see Tony's reflection in the window and heard the deliberate motions of unlocking his three locks.

"When I bought this place, my family was shocked that this was what I picked," Tim whispered before the door opened. "It's really not my style at all, but I was so excited. I'd been hired to a tenure-track position at a really good school, and it seemed like I was finally on track to the life I'd always wanted. Looking out on the city like this was... was like saying that I had everything I'd ever wanted to have. Well, almost everything. Looking out on the city at night, I could stand here and feel successful. Now..."

Another silence.

"Now?"

"Now, all I really see is the glass...protecting me from the outside world."

Another silence.

"You know, that doesn't have to be all you see."

"Yes, it does."

"No."

"Yes, because talking to someone about my fear means telling them _why_ I'm so afraid. And what makes me afraid is something that got a man killed. I'm not convinced that I haven't signed your death warrant, too, just by telling you what I've told you. I can't have that responsibility on my head. You talk about the ivory tower, Detective. I wish I could be there, but I feel like I've been locked out of it and all the pounding in the world won't make anyone let me inside."

He heard Tony walking up behind him, and even though he knew that Tony had no intentions of doing anything to him, Tim tensed. ...and he knew that Tony had seen it.

"I won't make you talk about anything else tonight. It's late for both of us, but you can talk about it. That really doesn't have to be the way your life is."

"You're wrong," Tim said, almost in a whisper.

Then, he turned around.

"Are you going to want to talk more about this?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. I'll call."

"Okay."

Tony walked back to the door and opened it. He paused.

"Do you need anything?"

Tim shook his head.

"Nothing that you can give me, but thanks for the thought."

"Okay. Good night."

"Good night."

Tim closed the door after him and put on his three locks. Then, he turned off the lights and walked back to the windows. He stared out over the city and sighed.

It was a beautiful view when he remembered it was there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony walked out of the building, feeling more determined than ever to figure this out. If Tim didn't dare get help while the guilty party was on the loose, then, he'd find the guilty party. He looked up before walking down the street to head home.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

As much as Tony really wanted to focus on the Benedict case and nothing else, since he was doing it on his own time, he couldn't do that. A suspected homicide tied him up for the next week. Baltimore remained one of the most dangerous cities in the country, particularly in the area of violent crime, including homicides. One of their directives was to try and get these murders stopped by getting the killers off the streets as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it was great to say that and much harder to accomplish. Drug-related crimes were common and the drug trade was supported by high poverty rates. Sometimes, it felt to Tony that they were fighting a losing battle and he wondered why he had chosen a job in a city that had such a high crime rate anyway.

He and Clark came back into the office on Friday and Tony plopped down on his chair with a sigh.

"Hey, at least we got him," Clark said.

"Yeah. At least," Tony said. "The very least. This guy isn't the biggest problem, you know."

"I know, but he's _a_ problem and we can't just leave the little guys out there committing crimes because there are other guys who are worse," Clark said.

Tony thought of the Benedict case again. Was it a big or a little guy he was after?

"I know," he said. "I vote that we take the rescuing cats from trees shift tomorrow."

"I thought that was the fire department," Clark said.

"Oh, right. Maybe I'll become a firefighter."

"You'd mess up your nice hair."

Finally, Tony felt like laughing.

"Might be worth it."

"Nah. You'd have to do a lot of heavy lifting, too."

"True. Guess I'll stay here, then."

"Big of you. Now, I know it's early, but we've earned it. Let's knock off and get a drink."

"That sounds great," Tony said.

They grabbed their jackets and went to the bar. Both of them tried not to talk about anything related to work while they were there. Neither of them wanted to be taking their work home with them if they could avoid it and having a quick drink was a nice way to unwind and set things aside.

As they were finishing up and getting ready to leave, suddenly the door to the bar opened and admitted a large group, all talking loudly and sounding like they were already drunk. They were pushing and shouting and laughing far too loudly. It was Friday, but these guys had clearly started early. Clark looked at Tony with resignation and then looked at the bartender who looked back with a hopeful expression. There was a reason he encouraged the cops to hang out in his place.

With a nod, the two of them got up and walked over to the group, hoping that they could just be herded back out the door before they actually did something worth arresting them for.

"Hey, guys. Looks like you've already had enough to drink," Clark said. "I think you all should just go home and sleep it off."

Some incoherent shouting indicated a generally negative view of that suggestion. So Tony stepped in.

"Come on. You're already being annoying. Just leave the way you came and it'll be better for everyone. Including you."

One of the group stood up and got in Tony's face. Tony could smell the alcohol on his breath. Definitely drunk.

"You can't tell me what to do!" A few choice swear words punctuated his statement and the others in his group cheered him on.

"Actually, I can," Tony said. "And I'm trying to be friendly about it, but if you keep pushing, none of us will be happy."

"Oh, yeah? Who do you think you are?" the ringleader demanded, punctuating his question with more swearing.

Tony pulled out his ID and badge.

"Detective Tony DiNozzo, Baltimore PD. You're creating a public nuisance and I'm giving you a chance to just leave and not have to face a misdemeanor for public intoxication. I'm trying to save you time and money."

"And I'm Detective Clark Watson. We just want to have this end well. For all of us."

The group was momentarily subdued, but then, in the mysterious ways of inebriation, the stupidest and drunkest of them was in charge and he wasn't about to be embarrassed by a cop. He looked back at his buddies and then, suddenly, whirled back and punched Tony in the face.

Tony had half-expected something like this and so he didn't absorb the full blow and kept on his feet, but his badge went flying from his hands and he tried to keep things from escalating. He had his hands out in a defensive posture as soon as he regained his balance. He didn't want to pull his gun in the bar, with all these other people and the group of drunks whose reactions were clearly not high on the intelligence scale. He was still hoping for a relatively-peaceful end.

"You like that, you pig?" the man shouted.

More cheering from his drunken audience.

"Not really. You don't want this to go any further than it has," Tony said. "You've just assaulted a police officer."

"You still have a chance to stop this," Clark added. "There's no reason for it to get worse."

"Oh, yeah?"

Then, in a move that really did take Tony by surprise, the confrontation escalated. In fact, it went up so high and so fast, it could have topped Mount Everest in seconds.

The man drew a knife from his pocket and attacked. Tony was able to get his arm up to fend it off, but that meant his arm took the initial blow and the man got him. Good.

Pain shot up from his forearm as the man stabbed him just below the elbow and then yanked the blade back out, ready for another attack. Tony staggered backward, almost as much in shock as in pain. Clark jumped in front of him, his gun out.

"All right! That's it! Stop where you are or I'll shoot! Bullets beat blades every time. Are you ready to test that?"

Finally, the others in the drunk group, perhaps the ones not quite so stupid drunk, grabbed their friend and pulled him back, forcing him to drop the knife.

"You okay?" Clark asked, not taking his eyes off the group.

The bar was now silent except for the music and the faint sound of the bartender calling for help on his phone. Tony was very conscious of all the cell phones that were out, filming, hoping for internet glory, but he was most conscious of the fiery pain in his arm and the blood currently oozing out between his fingers as he tried to staunch the flow.

"I'll live. Don't shoot if you can avoid it," Tony said in a low voice.

"You're not kidding," Clark muttered.

Then, seconds later, the door to the bar burst open and more police came in. The drunken group were all under arrest before Clark or Tony could say another word. Only when the danger was past did Tony stagger over to a chair collapse onto it, still very conscious of the fact that his arm was bleeding profusely.

Clark was beside him in a second.

"Let me see," he said.

"I'll live," Tony said, again.

"Stop being an idiot and let me see."

Reluctantly, Tony let go of his arm and allowed Clark to check it out.

"Oh, man, Tony. That looks really bad. Let's get you out of here. You feeling lightheaded?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Let's go. The ambulance should be here soon."

"I'm not paying for an ambulance ride. Just call it in and let's go," Tony said, irritably.

Clark nodded reluctantly and helped Tony to his feet. The bartender ran over to them.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think that..."

Clark stopped him. "Don't worry about it. It's our job. We weren't having an exciting day, anyway."

"If there's anything I can do..."

"How about a beer when we get back?"

"Absolutely. On the house."

"Sounds great."

Clark helped Tony out of the bar and to a car. Both of them had been drinking, even if it wasn't much and Clark was militant about that, so Tony tried to be as well. They got a ride from another cop to the ER.

Tony was irritated and in pain. When they got to the ER, he was taken back quickly since he was still bleeding and they did an examination and determined that there was some serious muscle damage and there was a nick in his ulna but that he'd managed to avoid much nerve damage. That was all well and good, but it still hurt like the dickens. He had to get stitches and because of his damaged muscle, he would have to have his arm immobilized for a little while to let the muscles heal. And that meant no working since it was his right arm.

All in all, he wasn't happy about this turn of events. He was staring at the ceiling, willing his arm to stop hurting as the local anesthetic wore off. He'd been seen so quickly, but now, he was waiting for someone to come in and give him the final check so that he could leave. Clark was sitting with him.

"Man, this was so stupid," Tony said with a grimace. "Totally unnecessary."

"Yeah. I guess that's a lesson in why you don't get drunk."

Tony laughed humorlessly.

"I didn't need to learn that lesson."

"I know. I'm really sorry, Tony. I didn't even notice that he had a weapon."

"Neither did I. The punch was bad, but if that had been it, I would have forced his friends to get him out of there and left it at that, just a guy overindulging and being stupid. That's not what this was. No way will I let this go now."

"Definitely not. He could have killed you."

"And just because we suggested that they go home since they were impaired."

"Well, there is one good thing about this."

"What?" Tony asked.

"We'll get a free beer out of it."

Tony laughed with more humor.

"Maybe two," he said.

"You might get free beer for life if Jack has anything to say about it."

"Good. I deserve it," Tony said, feeling grumpy again. "I know they have a lot to do, but they'd have a free bed if they'd just get in here and make sure everything is okay!"

"Yeah. Well... looks like you'll be off for a few days. What are you going to do with your time?"

"Oh, yeah." Then, suddenly, it dawned on Tony that he wouldn't be going in to work, but that didn't mean he couldn't do _some_ work, perhaps on a certain cold case. "Well, I'll figure something out."

"Don't have too much fun."

"Feeling the pain in my arm as it heals? I don't think so."

"Well, you can catch up on movies."

"True. Well, I'll find something. I'm glad we finished the last case before this."

"If we hadn't, we wouldn't have been in the bar early."

"Don't remind me."

Then, finally, a doctor came in, looking at Tony's chart.

"How are you feeling, Detective?"

"Annoyed," Tony said.

The doctor looked up.

"Not at you. Just the situation." That was kind of a lie, but it didn't do to insult one's doctor.

"I don't blame you for that," the doctor said. He quickly took a look at Tony's arm, checking the stitches and the overall injury. "I'm going to recommend a splint to keep this immobile. It's not quite at the joint, but it's close enough that too much movement is going to irritate the muscle as it's healing. You'll want to check with your own doctor in about ten days to see if the stitches can come out and watch for signs of infection. Redness, swelling, irritation."

Tony nodded in reluctant agreement. He couldn't see that there was any point in protesting any of it, even if a splint was a definite annoyance. A nurse came in to put on the splint and then, a few hours after arriving, Tony was finally being let out. He was annoyed anew to discover that he was still a little lightheaded and shaky. So when Clark offered to help him get home, he felt like he had to accept. So he did.

As he walked into his apartment, he thought about the events of the evening that had led to his current predicament. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to stop things from getting out of hand even if he _had_ known about the knife in advance. If he was honest, it might have just caused him to be more twitchy during the confrontation. The one bright side was that no one had died, not even the man the who had assaulted him. He sighed and sat down on the couch, ready to try and relax a little bit until he could take the pain pills that would take the edge off his pain. Actually, he should eat something before he took the pills. He forced himself to stand up and go into the kitchen. He pulled out some leftovers and warmed them up and then awkwardly ate with his left hand and allowed his mind to flit over to a man who _had_ died.

He was looking at at least a week, probably more, before he'd be allowed to go back to work where he'd have to be able to move his arm to get anything useful done. It would be a couple of days before he was ready think about other things, but lots of time was ahead of him.

That meant way more free time than he would usually want, but this time, he could start focusing on the Benedict case without any real interruptions. It might be just perfect.

But for now, Tony felt tired and so he forced himself back to his feet, got ready for bed and then fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, in spite of the discomfort in his right arm.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Tim spent the rest of the week in his apartment, trying to ignore the computer sitting on his counter. He succeeded for little while because he could face away from it to watch TV or type on his typewriter. He could read without seeing it, but it was always there, looming in the back of his mind. He managed to venture outside on Thursday because he needed to buy a few things, but even though he didn't need to go into work, he still got up early to do his shopping so that he could avoid the crowds. Then, he crept back into his apartment, relieved that it had been so simple. Lewis had checked on him a couple of times, but Tim had said nothing about Tony's visit and request, but it was still there at the back of his mind, too. All the time.

Finally, on Friday, he couldn't ignore it anymore and he walked over to his spare parts and began to find what he'd need to speed up the computer so that it would be able to run at the same capacity as it had the year before. Maybe even better. In fact, what if the reason for what had happened was that he hadn't been good enough and someone had realized he was looking? So he _should_ be better than he had been last year. Good enough that no one would know.

In fact, he would take a page from Benedict's book and not tell anyone, not even Tony. Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe one of them had let something slip. Maybe it would be better not to let anyone at all know what he was doing. He hadn't heard anything from Tony all week, either. Maybe he'd given up. Tim wouldn't blame him if he had. This was far from ideal, and Tim knew himself to be unreliable. Two meltdowns in two days and he wouldn't be surprised if Tony had written him off, whether he was giving up on the case itself or not. That was no good, either, because Tim hadn't given him details.

No, Tim wouldn't have another death on his head if he could help it. He doubted that Tony would give up completely. He'd just stop trying to get help from Tim since Tim was no help.

This time, he wouldn't screw up. He could just throw himself into this computer work and distance himself from what it had led to before.

He spent all of Friday trying to make the computer as cutting edge as he could. In fact, he even ventured to a local computer store to get extra parts to speed things up. A new SSD, some better RAM. Thankfully, the motherboard he'd chosen could handle what he was doing. He didn't want to start completely from scratch.

Then, he started working. First, he made sure that everything was exactly as he wanted it to be. He ran test after test to check the stability of his system, heating and cooling, speed. Then, it was a matter of getting into the Baltimore police department system. He'd used Benedict's login information before to get in. Maybe he should try hacking? He really was pretty good at it. But then, maybe he could fool the system into thinking that he could still be using Benedict's information. Would they have thought about it? They _should _have, but whether they _would _have was another matter.

It was about two a.m. when he was ready to try something, when he was ready to find a way around his mental block and begin the process of tracking down who was responsible. Early morning like this would be more likely to give him a better chance of not being seen. No one would be watching in the system at this time of the night.

Tim stared at the computer monitor for a long time without doing anything. He had vowed never to venture into this part of the world again. He wasn't a cop. He wasn't an investigator. He was a nerd. A nerd with a Ph.D. He'd never been involved in police work before.

But he also believed very strongly in doing the right thing. Benedict had been murdered because of this stuff. He had to atone for his part in that somehow.

Finally, at three a.m., he tentatively reached out to his keyboard and began to type. He started out ramrod straight, so hesitant and afraid of what he was doing, but as he got into the work, he assumed his usual hunched over position, focused only on the monitor and nothing else. He wasn't even thinking about what the information meant. It was just the information that he was looking for. It was meaningless.

And that's where he was for the rest of the night.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

On Sunday, Tony decided that he needed something to distract him besides movies. A full day of just lying around doing nothing was just not his thing. So he needed to do something and what better way to get his heart pumping than to talk to Sacks?

He'd have to put off his pain pills, but at the same time, he was supposed to be easing off on them anyway. He'd seen too many examples of people who didn't get off them right to want to tamper with that. They'd left him in a fog most of Saturday which was fine. But today, if he was going to talk to Sacks, he wanted to be in better condition.

He did decide to wait until the afternoon. While making things convenient wasn't his usual m.o., he needed Sacks' help and he didn't want to antagonize him in this situation.

Finally, he called.

"_DiNozzo, it's Sunday, my one guaranteed day off. Don't you have any hobbies?"_

"Yes, but right now, I can't really do any of them, so I'm choosing to bug you instead."

"_Why can't you do them?"_

"Well, I got stabbed on Friday night."

There was a long pause.

"_You okay?"_ Sacks' voice was completely different. Tony couldn't even decide what had changed, but something definitely had.

"Yeah. Drunk guy not thinking and decided to show how tough he was by attacking me. Got me in the arm, below the elbow."

"_Nerves?"_

"Intact. Muscle tear and nicked one of my bones."

"_No arteries?"_

"Nope."

"_You're lucky."_

"Yeah. Doesn't feel so lucky right now, but I am. Neither of us realized he had a weapon."

"_So, now what?"_

"Now, I have at least a week off work."

"_And you're going to use it to work."_

"Yep."

"_Figures."_ Sacks' voice was back to its usual tone.

"You want to know what I've got?"

"_Even if I don't, I'm sure you'll tell me."_

"Probably. You shouldn't have answered the phone if you didn't want to talk to me."

"_You may not realize it, but I don't always know what you're calling for."_

"Glad that you didn't pretend that you didn't recognize my number."

"_What do you have, DiNozzo?"_ Sacks asked in a resigned voice.

"Benedict thought there was a smuggling operation going on which was being supported by at least one cop in his district."

"_Why?"_

"Dr. McGee wasn't really sure on everything that led Benedict to that conclusion, but he apparently stumbled across a file that essentially guaranteed that evidence would be miscatalogued which ended up giving a suspect time to escape."

"_And he was doing this investigation on his own?"_

"Yes."

"_That's really stupid, you know."_

"I know."

"_Just as long as that's clear for you."_

"It is."

"_Good. What else?"_

"Dr. McGee has more information, but he had another panic attack and so I gave him a pass on it for the moment. Then, we got a case and I'd been working on that all week. Haven't had a chance to go back."

"_If he has a panic attack every time you ask him for information, how much help is he going to be?"_

"I don't know, but he knows more than he's told me and he's apparently the only one left who does, so I don't know that I have any real choice but to rely on him."

"_Is it worth it to you?"_

"Yeah. Because something went really wrong and it's still wrong with everyone trying to pretend it's over when it's not over."

"_That's pretty sappy, DiNozzo."_

"I notice that you're not claiming not to care about it, either," Tony said. "Besides, you're the one who said that Tim McGee deserved to get justice."

"_He does, but that doesn't mean he's going to be useful enough to figure out who killed Benedict."_

"He will. Eventually."

"_Soon enough? Before the killer realizes what you're doing and goes after you?"_

"I hope so. Have _you_ found anything?"

"_Hard to look when you don't know what you're looking for. Now that I know the general background, I'll get back to it. You have a week?"_

"At least. Doc said it could be more."

"_Okay. I'll see what I can do. If you find out more, let me know."_

"Will do."

"_And don't be stupid about your arm. It might be just your arm, but if you push it, you'll be risking permanent damage."_

"Ah, Sacks. I didn't know you cared."

"_I'm serious, DiNozzo. I've seen it happen."_

"Actually, so am I."

"_Just be smart."_

"I try."

Sacks hung up without another word. Tony was interested in the concern. It wasn't just for Tony. Something about that reaction was personal for Sacks and Tony couldn't help but wonder why.

Oh, well. He'd figure that out later. For now, it was Sunday afternoon and he needed to decide what he'd do with the rest of his day.

Watching a movie sounded pretty good.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up with a major crick in his back, drool on his face and a strange feeling of laying on something quite hard.

He opened his eyes and realized that all he could see was a computer tower an inch in front of his nose. He grimaced and sat up, rubbing his face and his neck by turns as he tried to stretch his back. It was light outside, but he vaguely remembered that it had got dark sometime after he had started working.

What day was it?

Turning away from the computer which appeared to be in sleep mode, Tim forced himself to stand up from the stool at his counter and he limped over to where he'd set his phone down...at some point. He sat down and picked it up. He had put it in silent mode... at some point. Then, he had decided that just having it there beside him was too distracting. He picked up his phone and smiled a little as he saw all the calls from Lewis.

Then, he gasped a little when he realized what he'd done. It was Sunday afternoon! He hadn't fallen into one of those disconnected, all-day work sessions in years. However, he had to admit that it was effective. He couldn't be worrying about anything else when he was only focused on working. It was just that he tended to do things like this where he worked without stopping until he couldn't even stay awake any longer.

"Did I eat anything yesterday?"

He didn't really remember, but that wasn't necessarily indicative of anything. He could usually figure it out. He stood up again and stretched, trying to wake himself up. He walked over to the sink and looked to see its contents. He smiled.

Just as he'd thought. He had eaten but hadn't paid attention to it. That was good because he got jittery when he forgot to eat.

Then, he looked at the computer. He'd have to look at it and remind himself of what he'd been doing. He didn't want to.

Instead, he walked back to the chair and sat down. He decided to call Lewis. He was surprised that Lewis hadn't found some way into his building and started pounding on his door.

He called and then yawned again.

"Hey, Lewis. Looking for me?" Tim asked, trying to be casual about it.

"_Tim! I was about to try calling the police. Where have you been?"_

Tim wondered if Lewis really realized just how paternal he sounded sometimes.

"At home." _Working on the case that destroyed my life._

"_I called you!"_

"Yeah. About a dozen times. I had my phone on silent and I didn't realize you'd called."

"_Are you okay?"_

"As okay as I ever am," Tim said. And that was true. Working as he had numbed some of his usual anxiety...which was why he often did serious work. He could avoid the issues by emphasizing his work load.

"_You want to come over for dinner tonight?"_

"No, but maybe next week."

"_All right. And you're sure you're okay?"_

"Right at this moment?" _...when I'm not doing anything related to Benedict's case._

"_Yeah."_

"I'm okay." _But I probably won't be when I try to share the information that has to have validity because of the source material._

"_Good. Don't do that anymore, okay? At least change your message to let me know."_

"I could do that."

"_Good. Do it."_

"I will. Anything else?"

"_Yeah. Take it easy."_

"I'll work on that." _Later..._

They said their good-byes and then Tim just had to look back at the computer, waiting for him to return to it.

"I don't want to do this," he whispered aloud.

But it was necessary. So he just stared and there was no one to pressure him to move faster. He appreciated that. He could move at his own glacial pace.

Eventually, though, he had to get back to work.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Instead of looking at the computer, for the time being, Tim decided to avoid it. No one knew he was doing this, so it didn't matter if he procrastinated a little bit. And he needed to get out of his apartment. He finally felt like he could face the world and needed to be out in the open air. The War Memorial Plaza wasn't far from his building and he enjoyed walking around there. He could have the hustle and bustle of the city without feeling too trapped by all the people around. There wasn't much green space, but it was enough. Sometimes, he would go to the bigger parks to enjoy the grass and trees, but for now, he just needed to be outside. It was a strange combination of needing the time out but also fearing it because of what might happen. Right now, he felt that the need was greater than the fear.

He took his time walking on the sidewalks, trying to enjoy where he was, trying to feel that contentment that had been the norm for him before last year. He rarely succeeded in getting there, but sometimes, he could almost forget the near-constant anxiety for a while.

When he got to the small park by the Veteran Memorial, he walked around the space a little bit, but then, he just sat down to try and let himself relax just a little.

For a while, he was almost successful. There was less tension and he tried to push away the usual worries.

But then, for no reason he could explain, he suddenly noticed a man in the park. It occurred to him that this man had been in the park for as long as he had. If someone had asked him why that mattered, Tim wouldn't have been able to say, but all his old paranoia reasserted itself and he was afraid again. The world lost any of its security and safety. He could no longer enjoy the open air. He had to get back to his apartment where it was safe. He could feel his entire body tensing up.

_I have to escape._

He didn't know what he was escaping, but he had to get away from that man and from the park and the new danger it now held.

Tim stood up and began to walk out of the park. Then, he was even more alarmed when the man also began to leave the park. It didn't matter that he appeared to be going in a different direction. What mattered was that he was leaving right at this moment. Tim was now terrified. He wanted to start running, but what if the man ran after him? Then, what?

_What do I do? What do I do?_

Tim froze in place on the sidewalk, unable to make a decision. The man walked out of the park and down the street without even a glance in Tim's direction.

_He wasn't watching me. I just thought he was. _

Tim felt like an idiot, but he was still terrified and he just wanted to get home. Now, he started running, not caring what anyone thought of a grown man running down the street. He got back to his building in record time, got into his apartment and nearly collapsed onto the couch in tears. His fear didn't get him into the crying stage very often, but it certainly had this time. It was that dichotomy of knowing he should be safe but feeling so incredibly in danger...

And in the case of the worst timing, possibly in the whole history of the universe, his phone started ringing. He picked it up and looked at it. He didn't recognize the number, so he didn't answer it. He was still sitting there when his phone beeped at him to indicate he had a voice mail. He could at least listen to the message.

It was short.

"_I know who you are. I know where you live. You can't hide forever. What did you find?"_

Tim dropped his phone in horror and was afraid to move.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up Monday morning feeling a lot better than he had on Friday, a lot better than Saturday and a little bit better than Sunday. All in all, improvement, and he would take that, even if his arm still hurt and he would be meeting with a physical therapist to make sure his arm functioned as it should after the damage. It was better than the alternative.

However, at the moment, he had time to do other things, and thinking about other things would take his mind off his arm anyway. Maybe it was time to see if Tim could share anything more. He dialed the number he had before, but it went straight to voice mail. There was a strange message attached to the voice mail.

"_I'm not answering my phone. Don't call me."_

That was it, and Tim's voice sounded terrified. When had that message been put in place? Was it recent? If so, why was Tim so afraid? What had happened?

Instead of just trying to call again, Tony decided that it might be a good idea to check on Tim in person. He quickly called for a taxi and rode over to Tim's building. He walked in and buzzed Tim's apartment. It went unanswered. He tried again. No answer again. A third time and finally, Tim answered. Or rather, Tony could tell that the connection had been made. Tim said nothing.

"Hey, Tim. It's Tony DiNozzo. Can I come up?"

A long pause.

Then, with no verbal acknowledgment, the door unlocked and he was admitted to the building. Feeling that this was extremely weird, and not sure if he was walking into a dangerous situation, Tony regretted not having his gun with him, but he needed to find out what was going on, so he went up to the apartment and knocked.

As before, he heard someone come to the door and just stand there.

"Professor, open up. What's going on?"

Then, the locks were being slowly removed, one by one. Tony tensed, ready for something to be wrong. The door opened, and Tony saw that something _was_ really wrong, but it wasn't because someone other than Tim opened the door.

Tim opened the door and looked scared out of his wits. As he had in his office before, he actually pulled Tony inside, closed the door and quickly put on all the locks again.

He hadn't yet said a word.

Then, he walked to his chair and sat down on it, staring at nothing.

"Tim, what's going on? What happened?"

This wasn't a panic attack over the memory of a past event. This was current. Tony could admit that he wasn't a psychiatrist, but all cops got to know a little bit of that stuff over time. Law enforcement brought them into contact with a wide swath of humanity, and he could tell when trauma was recent. Now, would it be this bad if it hadn't been for his previous experiences? Probably not, but this was a genuine here-and-now reaction.

"Tim, you've got to say something."

Tim's hands were shaking as he bent down and picked up his phone from the floor. Why was it on the floor? Tony had no idea, but he waited as Tim dialed a number and then handed the phone to him. He listened to the voice mail.

"_I know who you are. I know where you live. You can't hide forever. What did you find?"_

Tony looked at Tim in surprise.

"Tim, who is this?"

Tim shrugged.

"Tim! Snap out of it! You've got to give me more than this. What _happened_?"

Still nothing.

"Okay, then, I'm going to get you to a doctor or something."

"NO! I won't leave! I'm not leaving here! Never! I'm not leaving!" Tim said. He shouted the first word, but the rest of the words were whispered.

As much as he hated to do it, Tony decided to call Sacks. He did have training in psychology. Not as a therapist, but maybe he could help. Besides, Tony felt a little helpless here with Tim sitting there, doing nothing, saying almost nothing. He wanted to leave, but he didn't feel like he could leave Tim like this. He knew that Tim had a friend named Lewis, but he knew nothing more about him than that. There was the one faculty member on campus Tony had talked to before, but Tony didn't even know her name. All in all, Tony was realizing that he actually knew almost nothing about Tim outside of his involvement in this case, and even at that, he knew very little.

Well, if this weird freakout could be fixed, Tony would change that. For now, he pulled out his phone.

"_DiNozzo, I said I'd call. Some of us have actual jobs to do."_

"Ron, I need your help if you can get off for a little bit."

"_For what?"_

"I'm at Tim McGee's place. He's having some kind of freakout. Not a panic attack like I've seen before. He's not really talking but he's obviously hearing me and I'm not sure what to do about it."

"_You should get him to a doctor."_

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"That's the only thing he's said. No. Very emphatically. He said that he's never leaving and after the voice mail I heard on his phone, I can see why."

"_Voice mail?"_

"Someone said that he knows who he is and that he can't hide forever."

"_What has he been doing?"_

"I don't know. I called him to see if we could talk about the case some more but he wouldn't even answer. But he'd changed his message and it was so weird that I came over to check on him. He won't tell me what happened. Can you help me out? Maybe break him out of this? I know you've had some experience."

There was a heavy sigh.

"_I can... try. I make no promises. Depends on how bad it is. If he's responding at all, then, it's probably something temporary that he'd come out of on his own, but I'll come. Give me the address."_

Tony did and then hung up and waited. Tim was still sitting there, staring off into space. It was like he had needed to escape from something and had just escaped into his own mind instead of into a physical location.

It took about ten minutes for Sacks to get there. Tim was still sitting in the same place. Tony had thought about trying to talk to him more, but his first attempt hadn't really done much good, and he might have made things worse by suggesting that Tim go somewhere. So he just waited, hoping that maybe Tim would come out of it on his own.

He didn't, and Tony was the one who let Sacks come up. When he came in, he looked at Tony, raised an eyebrow and then walked over to where Tim was still sitting motionless in his chair. Sacks sat down opposite of Tim so that Tim could see him.

"Hello, Dr. McGee."

"He said he prefers to be called Tim."

Sacks nodded.

"Hello, Tim. Can you hear me?"

No response.

"I need you to take a deep breath. Copy me."

Sacks took a deep breath and, to Tony's surprise, Tim copied him.

"Good. Now, let it out."

Sacks exhaled and Tim copied him.

"Good. Now, something has really affected you, and I get that, but you don't have to hide from it. My name is Ron, and I'm here to help you, and so is... Tony."

Tony almost laughed at the lengthy pause before Sacks would say his first name.

"Breathe in with me again."

Tim did.

"Breathe out again."

Tim did.

"Good. You're doing great. What I need you to do is come out of whatever place you're hiding in and know that you're not going to have to face whatever scared you alone. You can talk about it and you can get help with it. You don't have to hide."

From Tony's vantage point, he thought that Tim might be genuinely looking at Sacks a little more. He still wasn't saying anything, but he appeared to be listening.

"Breathe in and then breathe out."

Tim did it, this time on his own. It took about ten more minutes, but finally, he seemed to start a little and his expression became confused. He looked at Sacks and then up at Tony.

"What's going on?" he asked. He looked at Sacks again. "Who are you?"

"Ron Sacks. FBI."

"FBI? Why? Did something happen?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you, Tim," Tony said. "You were completely freaked out. I couldn't even get you to say anything but that you weren't going to leave here ever again."

Tim actually looked a little embarrassed which was a relief. Seeing any expression besides that absolute terror was a major improvement.

"What happened?" Sacks asked.

Tim actually looked a little wary and Sacks smiled a little.

"I know your experience with law enforcement hasn't been the greatest, but give me a chance to screw up first."

"Yeah, he already did that with me," Tony said, cheerfully.

"Huh?" Tim asked.

"He accused me of being a murderer."

"You were treating the whole thing like a big joke," Sacks said. "If you had taken it seriously..."

"I _was _taking it seriously."

"Is this necessary?" Tim asked, softly.

"No," Sacks said, looking at Tony with irritation. "What happened?"

"Uh...It's... It's stupid. I'm just... I shouldn't have called..."

"You didn't. I called you," Tony said.

"You did? Why?"

"To see if you could tell me anything more."

"Oh."

"Can you?"

"This first," Sacks said, interrupting. "You still haven't told us what happened that put you in this state. That's not a normal thing, Dr. McGee. I'll bet it isn't even normal for you. Is it?"

"No. Not...recently."

"So what happened?"

"I was in the park. Sitting outside, trying to relax." Tim wouldn't look at them. It was clear he was extremely embarrassed, perhaps even ashamed.

"And what happened?"

"Nothing. But I saw a man in the park. He had come the same time I did. I was afraid of him. So I left, but he left, too, and I was terrified. But he just walked away. It wasn't like he'd done anything. I was just being an idiot. But then, I came home. My phone rang. I didn't want to answer, so I didn't. It was that message. And I don't remember anything else after that. I freaked out. For no reason."

"That doesn't sound like no reason to me, Dr. McGee," Sacks said, seriously. "Someone clearly threatened you. Whether the man in the park was truly following you or not, that message is a threat. Do you recognize the voice?"

"It's slightly distorted," Tony said. "Just enough to sound strange."

Tim shook his head. "No."

"Did you recognize the man in the park?"

"He seemed familiar but... I'm not sure." Tim shook his head again. "I told you. It was stupid. I was just overreacting."

"I don't think you were," Sacks said with a glance at Tony. "Have you been doing anything that a guilty person might be threatened by?"

To Tony's surprise, Tim nodded.

"Then, you shouldn't be surprised if someone might be feeling threatened and want to return the favor. Would you be willing to sit down and try to give a description of who you saw in the park?"

"I guess," Tim said. "But...I told you. I was just being stupid. Agent Sacks, I don't know if you know this, but I'm not really considered a reliable witness by people at the FBI."

"Yeah, I know that, but I'm not sure I agree with them."

"Oh. You think I was right?"

"Yes, because you recognized the person. If you didn't think you had seen him before, then, maybe it could be passed off as a mistake, but you say you thought he looked familiar. That's important to verify."

"Oh."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good."

Tony was genuinely impressed at Sacks' patience with Tim. He wasn't rushing Tim's recovery from his freakout, whatever it had been officially. He was simply working with what he judged Tim could handle, as far as questions he had.

"The next question is whether or not you're willing to leave your apartment to come to the FBI office."

"Oh. Right now?"

"The longer you wait to describe who you saw, the more the details will be lost."

"Oh."

Tony could see that, even if Tim was more in his right mind now, he still wasn't sure about it. He moved over so that Tim could see him. While they didn't know each other well, he was at least a familiar face.

"I'll even go over with you if you think it'd help," Tony said.

Then, he saw as Tim realized Tony wasn't in his usual condition.

"What happened to you?"

"Drunk guy decided to be stupid. Stabbed me in the arm. He's lucky my partner didn't kill him. I'll be fine in a few weeks, but I have to let the muscles heal up before I'm allowed to move it around like I want to. So I'm off work for the next while."

Tim stared at him for a few seconds, and Tony wasn't sure what was going through his head.

"The FBI? Not the Baltimore police?"

"FBI," Sacks said.

Tony knew why Tim was afraid of going to the police, but it galled him a little that Tim would rather go to _Sacks'_ place of employment rather than his. It was dumb, but that was par for the course when it came to Sacks and he chose not to say anything about it.

"Uh... Okay." Then, Tim looked down at himself and realized he wasn't really dressed to go anywhere. "Just give me a minute to change."

"Sure," Sacks said.

Tim got up and walked into his bedroom and closed the door. Sacks took a breath and looked at Tony.

"Wow," he said, his voice low. "Never seen someone like that before."

"Me neither."

"I see why you wanted some backup," Sacks said. Then, he looked over at the counter. "What's that?"

"The computer he used to work with Benedict before. He rebuilt it."

"You think he was hacking?"

"I don't know. I asked him if he could do that and he had another panic attack. I'd be surprised if he was willing, but you never know with him."

"Yeah. Okay. Well, this is going to take some doing to make sure that _I_ don't get in trouble for this, but I can talk to a few people and they'll be willing to look the other way until we see who it is he saw."

"You really think that someone was _actually_ following him?"

"I think it's entirely possible. That was a genuine fear. The voice mail simply pushed him over the edge. He'd be a lot better off if he'd talk to someone. He just isn't going to..."

Sacks broke off when the door opened and Tim came out dressed in casual clothes, but looking much more put together and more calm than he had before.

"Ready?" Sacks asked.

"I guess I have to be."

"Like I said, you're not doing this alone. So come on."

"Okay."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out and then nodded.

"Okay," he said again.

And the three of them left his apartment.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Tim felt really embarrassed, but still frightened as he sat in Sacks' car on the way to the FBI for the second time in his life. He wasn't particularly happy about going, but he knew that Sacks was right. He'd forget details if he put it off.

Speaking of details, Tim realized that he had no idea how long he'd been sitting around, doing nothing beyond freaking out.

"What day is it?" he asked.

"Monday," Tony said.

"Oh."

"When did this happen?"

"Sunday afternoon," Tim said and stared down at his lap. An entire day he'd been sitting around.

"I would have called sooner if I'd realized."

"No reason you should have," Tim said, almost in a whisper.

"Guess not, but still, I'm sorry that you dealt with that by yourself."

Tim shook his head. "Nothing to apologize for. You know what I am, Detective. I'm a wimp. I can't handle the stress and I break down because of it. I'm glad you're taking me seriously, Agent Sacks, but... but I'm sure that I was just being stupid again. It happens. I had a meltdown on a bus just because two guys in the back of the bus were arguing loudly. I'm betting this was just like that."

"I'm not," Sacks said bluntly. "I think you know more than you're letting on, and as far as the man in the park is concerned, I think your subconscious is telling you something important."

Tim sighed. He wasn't sure he was glad that he was being listened to. "How will this work?"

"Did you do a sketch...last year?"

"No. I never saw anyone clearly. They were in the car."

"Okay. What you'll do is sit down and try to describe the man you saw as accurately as you can. Kinsey will probably ask you some extra questions to get details. If you really don't know, say so. If you have some idea but it might not be quite right, say so. This isn't a test. This is just seeing what you know and...for now, we're keeping this quiet and so if you don't produce a picture we can work with, no harm done. No one will know."

"No one?"

"Well, no one important will know," Tony said. "We're just peons."

"Speak for yourself, DiNozzo," Sacks said.

Tim glanced back and forth between Sacks and Tony.

"Do you _have_ to work together?"

Tony let out a loud laugh.

"It's a case of mutual loathing, but we use each other because everyone knows we hate each other."

"Oh." Tim didn't get that, but he probably wasn't firing on all cylinders at the moment anyway.

The ride was silent until they got to the FBI office. Sacks turned to both of them.

"Now, unless it's necessary, I do all the talking. Got it, DiNozzo?"

Tony smirked.

"I'm serious. If the wrong people hear about this, I could get in real trouble, and I don't want that. I like my job and I'm not interesting in having to find another one."

"Sure, but I'll bet people still know me here. They're bound to say _something_ to me."

"I'm sure they do, but they also know how much I hate your guts. They won't think much of it unless you say something stupid. So keep your mouth shut."

"Fine, fine."

Tim noticed that Sacks didn't ask him. He probably figured he didn't have anything to worry about. He took a deep breath and got out of the car with the other two. Then, he followed silently along with them as Sacks led them into the building.

"Detective DiNozzo, I didn't expect to see you here with your archenemy," the security guard said with a grin.

"Sometimes, you can't avoid these things," Tony said. "Could be worse."

"How?"

"He could be behind me instead of in front."

"Ha! You two wouldn't know what to do with yourselves if you couldn't hate each other."

"Got things to do, Henry," Sacks said.

"All right, all right. I don't have much to do, you know. Not that I mind that. My job being exciting isn't a good thing."

He let them go into the building and Tim followed along, saying nothing. Finally, they came to a door and Sacks stopped them there.

"Okay. You two come in here. This is my office. Just stay in here until I can check with Kinsey."

Tim nodded and sat down. Tony also sat down and Sacks gave Tony a warning glance before closing the door firmly behind him.

"Why do you hate Agent Sacks?" Tim asked.

"Would _you_ like being accused of murder?"

"But did the evidence suggest it?"

"Well, yeah, but we're supposed to verify evidence, not just accept it without question," Tony said.

"Did he take it back?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean?"

"We found the killer, but I think he's always wondered if he was actually right. Makes it hard to trust him."

"But you guys help each other."

"That's because we're both good at our jobs."

Tim felt his brow furrow.

"I don't get it."

"You don't have to."

"Are _you_ really okay?" Tim asked.

Tony looked down at his arm.

"Eh. It hurts, but a lot of things hurt. I'd be going nuts if I stayed home and just sat around. I'd rather be doing this than doing nothing."

"Oh."

Tony actually smiled a little bit.

"So I realized that I know almost nothing about you besides what's related to this case."

"There's not much to know. I'm pretty boring," Tim said.

"Don't seem boring to me," Tony said.

"I don't do much beyond what you've seen."

"Now _that_ can't be true."

"Why not?"

"Because what I've seen wouldn't mean you're a professor at a snooty university or anything like that. You teach, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah."

"That much, huh?"

"I said I like it!" Tim said. "What more do you want?"

"Details, Professor! You're an academic! Details should be automatic for you."

Then, they were interrupted by Sacks coming back in.

"Okay. Kinsey has some time, but if something else comes up, that takes priority. Got it?"

"Yeah," Tim said, halfway hoping something _would_ come up.

"Good. Let's go."

They left Sacks' office and headed down the hall, then, down an elevator and into a room that was full of computer equipment. Tim could see just at a glance that most of it was fairly old, but he was willing to bet that there were programs running on these computers that he hadn't really ever seen himself. What they had was probably sufficient for what they did.

He was surprised when Tony and Sacks left him there and withdrew from where he'd been led. They were still in view, but out of earshot, as if they were giving him privacy. For some reason, that was something he genuinely appreciated, even though what he was doing didn't particularly _need_ privacy. He would still feel some pressure to perform with the other two there.

"So, I hear you're a computer science professor."

Tim turned away from them and nodded at the friendly-looking woman sitting by one of the computers. She was probably at least fifteen or twenty years older than he was.

"I'm Kinsey. I used to do sketches, but now, we mostly use the computer when we can. It speeds things up, but it's kind of disappointing not to sit down with a sketch pad and a pencil anymore. There's just something more organic about the process. I almost feel like I know the person better when I get to do an actual sketch."

"You can do that. I don't mind," Tim said.

Kinsey grinned. "No. It would take too long and I'm babbling. So let's just hop right into it. Tell me what you can about this guy you saw. Whatever comes to mind. Don't try to force anything. I'll work with what you say and then, we'll add more if we can."

"Okay. Where do I start?"

"Well, first off, what color was he?"

"White, probably. I mean, his skin was a little darker color, but it could just be tanned. I didn't pay that close attention to that...and it's...summer and everything."

Kinsey grinned at his awkward answer. "That's fine. Now, the face, if you can. That's the main indentifier."

"Okay. I didn't notice what color his eyes were," Tim said. "Is that a problem?"

"Nope. Just tell me what you did notice. Don't focus on what you didn't."

Tim nodded again. "Okay. He had a... a flat face. I mean, he had a nose and everything, but it was stubby and it made his whole face look flat. He had light brown hair and it was cut pretty short. It was straight, but that could just be because it was so short. It was cut really close to his head, almost like a military cut, you know, above the ears, close to the head, but it was really spiky on top. Way too spiky for a real military cut."

"That's a great start," Kinsey said, sounding encouraging.

Tim didn't know if that was because he was doing a miserable job explaining himself or if he really had done a good job.

"Now, do you remember his jaw. Was it square? Narrow and pointed? Cleft?"

"Square," Tim said. "Square and flat. His whole face was square and flat."

For some reason, the process of giving details about this person that had scared him so badly wasn't really causing him much anxiety. Maybe it was because, as Sacks had said, he wasn't doing this alone, or maybe it was because he was actually _doing_ something about his fear. Maybe it was because the man hadn't actually done anything to him at all, and he was just realizing how stupid he'd been. Tim didn't know, but he was okay with it. He was tempted to say that this really didn't need to be done at all.

"Any piercings that you noticed?"

"No. Not any. Definitely not any on his face."

"Okay. Eyebrows? Bushy or thin?"

"Uh... I didn't really notice them, but I think I would have if they were really bushy."

Kinsey smiled. "Okay. Anything on his forehead?"

"No."

"Receding hairline?"

"No."

"Ears. Big?"

"No, but I don't think they were really small. Just...average."

Kinsey asked all sorts of details, but Tim couldn't answer a lot of them. Any moles, discolorations, scars, freckles, stuff like that. Tim hadn't noticed those kinds of details, though. He'd been too frightened to pay that much attention, although his fear had also made him pay attention to things he might not have noticed if he wasn't such an idiot. He did his best to be honest when he hadn't seen things, knowing that it wouldn't help if he got something wrong. After about half an hour or more of the questions, she finally seemed satisfied.

"All right. Now, I'm going to put in brown eyes because that's the norm most of the time. Are you ready to see if we got this right?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Okay." She hit a few buttons and turned the monitor toward him.

Tim looked tentatively at the image, sure that he would have screwed it up, but no. He hadn't. Not at all. Now, Tim felt the anxiety associated with seeing him. He could feel himself tensing up. Maybe it showed in his face because Kinsey turned the screen away from him so he couldn't see it anymore and grabbed his arm.

"You all right?"

Tim took a deep breath and tried not to have yet another meltdown. "Y-Yeah. Mostly." He smiled weakly.

"Good. I take it that's who you saw?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She looked back over his shoulder. "Ron, we've got a face. Now, we just need to find out if he has a name."

Tony and Sacks walked over and joined them, but as soon as Tony saw the picture, he swore in surprise. Tim look up at him, feeling confused. That seemed like a strange reaction.

"You know who this is?" Sacks asked.

"_I_ don't," Tim said.

Tony looked at Tim. "You sure that this is who you saw?"

"Yeah. That's the guy in the park. But I told you I was probably just being stupid. Who is he?" Tim asked, trying not to look at the picture again.

"His name is Allan Blaser. Right now, he's Keith Archer's partner with Baltimore PD." Tony looked at Sacks and then back at Tim again. "He's a cop, Tim."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tim swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling very exposed and unsafe. A cop Tony knew had been watching him? Why? Tim knew what must be the reason, but it didn't make him feel any better. In fact, he felt worse. He licked his lips and found himself staring at Tony, unable to say anything at all. He hadn't wanted to deal with yet another meltdown, particularly not in front of so many witnesses, but he could feel himself beginning to lose control of his breathing. His heart was pounding and there was a roaring in his ears that blocked out any other sound.

Then, through the roaring, he did hear something. A female voice.

"Breathe. Just breathe slowly. You're going to be okay, Tim. Keep breathing. The attack will end. You're okay."

At some point, the voice stopped, but he could still keep breathing normally, and the world began to exist again.

And he felt horribly embarrassed by what had happened again.

"I'm s-s-sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

He stared down at the floor. Again.

"Nothing to apologize for."

"Y-Yes. Yes, it is. I make everything harder just because I can't stop falling apart every time some little thing comes up."

"These aren't little things, Tim. They're big things, and you've never had the help you needed to get through them," Sacks said.

Tim wanted to cry, but he definitely wasn't going to do that in front of these three people. He closed his eyes and tried to get control of himself again, taking deep breaths to overcome the urge to break down in tears. To his surprise, no one rushed him. And finally, he steeled himself and looked up, feeling as though his face was on fire. One more deep breath.

He was again surprised not to see condemnation or, worse, pity. They were all just looking concerned. He wasn't sure he liked that, either, but it was better than many alternatives.

"Tim, I'm sorry. I should have thought what that might do to you," Tony said.

Tim shook his head.

"No, really. That was dumb of me," Tony said.

"It really was," Sacks agreed. "Do you feel like you can answer any questions?"

"I wish I could, Agent Sacks," Tim said. "I really do, but I feel like if I start thinking about it too much again..."

"Understood. I'll take you back to your place, then. But there _is_ something to this. You're not stupid. You're not weak. Something is going on, and that matters. Got it?"

Tim nodded and took another breath.

Sacks led him back out of the building after an encouraging farewell from Kinsey. Tony trailed along with them, but no one said much. Sacks dropped Tim off at his building, and Tim was vaguely surprised when Tony got out, too.

"I'll walk up with you, unless you want to be alone," Tony said.

Tim thought about it, and really, even though it was a near-stranger saying it, the last thing he wanted right now was to be alone.

"I don't," he said, softly.

"Okay. I'll come up."

"Okay."

They went up to Tim's apartment once more. Tim glanced over at the computer still waiting for him to check it. He couldn't. He shuddered and looked away. Not today. He couldn't handle it today. Instead, he walked over to his couch and nearly collapsed onto it. Then, he slumped down and pressed his hands against his forehead. How many more times could this happen? He'd gone a long time without a single meltdown. He'd even started to think that he was really getting over what had happened last year, but since this stuff had started coming up, they were happening over and over again, with barely any time to recover. At least, that's how it seemed to Tim. He let out a long, weary sigh.

Then, he felt the couch shift as Tony sat down beside him.

"I'm really sorry for this, Tim. It's really doing a number on you, isn't it."

Tim laughed humorlessly and let his hands fall to his lap.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm sorry. I know you don't know me very well. Do you want to call a friend or something?"

Tim shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't tell anyone why this is such a problem for me. No one knows...except you and you don't even know everything because I just can't handle talking about it right now. I wish I could get it all out at once and just be done. But I can't. It's too hard. I can't do it."

"You're getting some of it out at a time. That's good enough. It's waited for a year. It can wait a little longer."

"Unless it can't. I didn't think there was any rush with John. He got killed."

Tim could still see that horrible moment, letting it play out in his mind like it had just happened yesterday.

Then, someone was shaking his arm.

"Snap out of it, Tim. If you don't think you can handle thinking about it, don't think about it."

"I wish it was that easy."

Tim closed his eyes as his exhaustion asserted itself and he began to feel extremely tired. Even though Tony wasn't exactly relaxing company, knowing that he wasn't alone at this moment when he felt genuinely in danger helped him relax enough that he actually fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony actually smiled when he realized that Tim had fallen asleep. He probably needed it after all his shocks. It was too bad they hadn't met in better circumstances. Tony didn't feel like he was really getting a good sense of who Tim was by seeing him in these moments of extreme anxiety.

_In other circumstances, we probably wouldn't have given each other the time of day. I'd look down on him for not living in the real world. He might look down on me for not having the education he has._

He wasn't sure how long Tim would actually want him there, but he didn't want to have him wake up alone, unaware of what was going on. Instead, he got up and walked over to Tim's bookshelf.

What kind of books would a computer nerd read? He guessed _Star Trek _novels or something like that. Scifi and fantasy, for sure. There were some of those, along with some physics books, textbooks, but what really surprised Tony were two full shelves of detective novels. From what he could tell, these weren't new. They were well-read, worn covers, stained pages. The copies weren't expensive and it was clear that Tim had either bought them well-used or he had simply read them a lot himself. Sherlock Holmes, Hercules Poirot, and other famous detectives even Tony had heard of. He had _The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity_. Tim had books that Tony hadn't realized were books. He'd only seen the movies. He had Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, and other authors Tony hadn't heard of, but all seeming to be detective novels. And then, at the very end of one detective shelf, was a set of small books that made Tony chuckle. Twenty _Nate the Great_ books. Kids detective stories. It was a weird shift in Tony's perception of who Tim was.

Detective novels. A computer geek reading detective novels. Huh. Who would have thought? Tony would never have guessed. So Tim had some uncommon interests.

_I probably shouldn't say that it's uncommon. How many geeks do I actually know anything about?_

Then, he saw one book that was clearly one Tim must really care about. It looked old, too, but more old in the collectible way than in the well-used way. The hard cover was green with gold accents. _The Moonstone_ by Wilkie Collins. The title told Tony nothing. He'd never heard of either the title or the author. Well, if it was a valuable book, he didn't want to damage it, so he left it where it was. He didn't want to walk around too much in Tim's home. The last thing Tim probably needed was people snooping into his life.

What Tony wished was that he himself was good enough at computers to be able to just dive into whatever Tim had been doing, but he knew he wasn't.

Then, he grimaced as his arm began aching. He'd done more today than he had since his injury and that was only a couple of days ago. He shouldn't really be up and about so much. Tony looked back and saw Tim slumped down on the couch, head gradually sliding down toward the arm. A self-correcting problem, evidently.

Tony walked over to one of the chairs and pulled an ottoman in front of it. Then, he sat down and leaned back with his arm elevated on the arm of the chair. Taking the pressure off it definitely helped. He sat there for a while and just tried to relax. In fact, he dozed a little himself, although he never really fell asleep.

After about an hour, Tim was breathing so deeply that he was one step away from snoring. That jolted Tony out of his drowsing. He sat up and suppressed a groan. He needed his pain pills. However, Tim was still sleeping, and Tony still didn't think it would be a good idea to leave him alone. He tried to settle his arm in such a way that it wouldn't hurt.

He was moderately successful.

_I should have thought about this taking longer. If I had just brought some with me. ...but then, I'm supposed to take them with food, too. I don't want to rummage through his cupboards._

Oh, well. He'd felt pain before, and he would again. It would be fine.

Another half an hour and Tim suddenly sat up, looking around wildly. Then, his eyes fell on Tony and he was more than a little embarrassed.

"Sorry that I fell asleep," he said.

"You needed it. It's fine."

"No, it's not," Tim said. "I know what it feels like when the painkillers wear off, and if you're hurt bad enough to be in a sling, then, after all this time, you're probably hurting."

Again, Tony was struck by the realization that he still knew very little about Tim. So little that he would never have assumed that Tim knew serious pain.

"Am I right?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. You are."

"Then, you should go home. I've gone a full year without having people around all the time. I know how to be alone."

"It's not that bad yet."

"But when you're hurting, you don't want to _let_ it get that bad. That just makes it even harder to deal with it."

"Okay, but only if you come over to my place and let me ask you some questions...not about the case."

Tim's brow furrowed.

"About what, then?"

"About you...and the stuff that interests you...like those shelves of detective novels."

Now, Tim definitely reddened.

"Not much to tell."

"Then, you can tell me and come back here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious, and it seems pretty harmless."

"So?"

"Well, I think you can use something harmless. Right?"

Tim looked uncomfortable, but Tony really thought that this would help Tim relax and recover, even if it was with a near-stranger. ...and he really was curious.

"And once I take my pain pills, I'll probably start getting groggy anyway. So you won't have to talk to me for too long."

Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why does this matter so much to you?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know, but I think you need some time off. If you can't talk to anyone else, at least I'm someone who knows what's going on."

Tim seemed to be genuinely considering it, so Tony decided to let him, although he really wanted Tim to just make a decision.

Finally, Tim nodded.

"Okay."

Not very enthusiastic, but that was okay. He'd take it.

"I'll call for a taxi," Tim said.

Tony almost protested, but then, he decided to let Tim do it. Tim visibly hesitated as he picked up his phone. Then, he took a breath and quickly dialed a number and quickly asked for a taxi.

"It'll be down there in a couple of minutes."

"Okay. Let's go."

They left the apartment.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Tim couldn't figure out why Tony wanted to talk to him or why he had asked him to come to his apartment. From Tim's perspective, it made no sense. They had only come into contact because Tony had taken Benedict's place. That was it. Now, Tony was expressing interest in learning more and Tim was genuinely confused by that.

However, he also had the feeling that Tony didn't dare leave him alone which was silly, given that Tim had dealt with this stuff before, even if he hated that he had. He could handle it. His meltdowns always ended eventually.

But he also had to admit that he was slightly curious himself. What would Tony's home be like? Tim assumed it would be similar to the only other cop's home he'd seen. Benedict's home had been simple and modest. Nothing exciting in it. He'd been recently divorced, but there were pictures of his family on the walls. Overall, his decorating scheme had been rather bland. Not many books, and Tim didn't see Tony as being a reader either.

The building was much smaller than the one Tim lived in. It was a walk-up. No real security which made Tim nervous, but he didn't say anything. He just paid the taxi driver and got out when Tony did.

"This is the place," Tony said. "I'm on the third floor. It's a bit of a hike, but it's not bad most of the time."

Tim nodded mutely, looking all around for someone following them. Tony didn't seem to notice. He just led Tim inside. They climbed the three flights and Tony seemed worn out by the time he got to the top, but he didn't say anything about that, either. He just got out his key and let them into the apartment.

Tim got his first glimpse into Tony's life.

And his first glimpse was...

"You like movies?"

Tony grinned.

"Not just movies. I have TV series, too."

Tony had a huge built-in bookcase and it was full of DVDs, but there was another smaller bookshelf below his large TV. That was also full of DVDs.

And then, just to throw Tim off, in one corner of the apartment was...

"How did you get a piano up here?" Tim asked in surprise.

Tony grinned again.

"I didn't, actually. It was already in here when I got the place. It's one of the reasons I picked it. Previous owners didn't want to try to get it out."

That really didn't jive with Tim's perception of who Tony was. Playing a musical instrument seemed so out of character, but he didn't know how to say that without it sounding like he was saying a cop couldn't play the piano.

"Oh."

Tony chuckled as if he knew what Tim was thinking.

"Now, I'm supposed to eat something before I take my pills. Are you hungry?" he asked.

Tim shook his head.

"Okay. Have a seat."

"Okay."

Tim sat down on the couch and was surprised at how comfortable it was. He didn't know why he was surprised by that in particular, but he was.

Honestly, at this point, he just felt really awkward. He was sitting in the home of someone he barely knew after a day of meltdowns and all around frightening moments. It really wasn't his ideal. In fact, if he thought he could get away with it, he'd just sneak out of Tony's apartment and go back home as fast as he possibly could.

_And prove to him that you're just as bad as he thinks you are._

Tim sighed a little. He was in a no-win situation. He'd just have to make the best of it.

Tony came back out and sat down on the other side of the couch and put his arm on the side and then looked more than a little relieved.

"I'm sorry," Tim said. "There's no reason for you to exert yourself like this when it hurts so bad."

Tony shook his head. "Nope. Do you know what I'd be doing if I wasn't doing this? Sitting around and just thinking about how much my arm hurts. That's boring. I like having distractions. It hurts less when I'm not thinking about it."

"Okay. I honestly don't know what you want me here for," Tim said. "I already told you that I'm not that exciting, and looking around this place, I don't think I have anything in common with you except that it looks like we're both single."

Tony laughed, but Tim thought he might have had a bit of surprise in his expression, too.

"We are that. But here's the thing, Professor. I like knowing people. I like finding things out. I like meeting people. That's the kind of person I am. One of the good things about my job is that I'm always learning about people. Now, a lot of them are scum, but not all of them. The interesting ones are worth knowing and usually I do, but I realized that I know almost nothing about you and I've been left with making assumptions. That's not a good thing."

"Why not? What does it matter?" Tim asked.

"You know what they say about people who assume."

Tim smiled a little.

"Sometimes, assumptions are accurate," Tim said. "You already know I'm a geek and I'm a wimp."

"I do?" Tony asked, acting surprised. "Do tell. What else do I know?"

Tim sighed. "Oh, come on. I know what people like you think about people like me."

"What's that?"

"You said it already. I'm part of the ivory tower. We don't get our hands dirty. We don't see things that people who are actually part of the world see. All we do is sit around and play with theoretical ideas that have no particular application."

"And I seem to remember you saying that you only wish you were there."

Tim shrugged and looked down at his lap.

"Okay, Tim. I'm not usually a straightforward guy. I like talking in circles," Tony said.

Tim glanced up at him and Tony grinned.

"I've had suspects confess just to get me to stop talking." Then, he got serious. "Here's the thing. You're not boring. You're not a wimp. Yeah, you're a geek, and I don't usually think much of geeks. Too much time spent thinking and not enough time doing. _But_ I'm willing to admit that I haven't spent much time with geeks. I was a jock in school. Didn't have time for that. You have two full bookshelves of detective novels."

"So?"

"So that's fascinating."

"Why?" Tim asked. "Everyone has genres they enjoy."

"Yeah, but why detective novels?"

"I just like them. I have since I was a kid," Tim said, unsure of why Tony was pushing this so hard.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't like scifi, then?"

"Sure, I liked that, too. I read a lot."

Tony laughed. "Man, trying to get information out of you is like trying to squeeze water from a stone, Tim. These aren't deep, dark secrets I'm asking about you. Just the basics." Then, he raised an eyebrow. "Or are they not basics even though I think they are?"

Tim shrugged and there was a bit of a silence.

"Why do you like detective novels, Tim?" Tony asked, but it was less combative than it had been.

"When I was a kid, I... I wanted to be a detective," Tim said softly. "Finding the guilty people. Putting things right. Being the hero."

"Not an astronaut?"

Tim actually found that he could smile. "That's the great thing about being a kid. You don't get held up by reality. I could want to be an astronaut and a detective and a computer genius without worrying about whether or not they could fit."

"So what happened?"

"What do you think happened?" Tim asked in return. "I grew up. I learned that the reality is that not everything can get put right. Not everyone gets to be an astronaut. There really aren't very many heroes out there. Sometimes... things that are wrong stay wrong and you just have to deal with it."

"Are you talking about last year or something else?"

"Something else," Tim said. "There's always something else."

"I'm starting to see that. What did you want to put right?"

"That's not basics," Tim said, shaking his head. "That's way beyond basics."

"Okay. Your turn, then. I know you want to ask," Tony said, smiling.

"What do I want to ask?"

"I'm willing to bet a _lot_ of money that you had questions as soon as you stepped in here."

Tony was perceptive. Tim had to admit it. He really did read people and read them well. He was also very persuasive. Way more than Tim would have expected, and he had to deal with Lewis on a regular basis. But then, Tony was a detective. He investigated crimes. He'd have to be perceptive to be good at his job.

"Come on. Ask, Tim," Tony said. "I promise that I won't be offended. Besides, the pills are starting to kick in and I'm going to be extremely relaxed in no time."

"You really play the piano?"

Tony grinned. "Yep. If it wasn't for my arm, I'd demonstrate, but a one-handed presentation isn't very impressive and I would want to show off my skills."

"You play the piano so much that you got an apartment because it had one included?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Tony was still smiling, but the smile changed a little.

"My mom taught me to play. She died when I was pretty young, but I remember sitting with her on the piano bench, learning to play the masterpieces...like 'Chopsticks.' And then, when she died, I kept playing when I could. Dad didn't care, but I did. We still had the piano and so I played it when he wasn't around...which was most of the time."

"Where was he?"

"Pretty much anywhere that wasn't home. I'm not sure where he is right now, as a matter of fact. My dad isn't really big on the whole family thing. Really, my mom wasn't much, either, but she was better than Dad was. She at least remembered she was a parent. What about your family?"

Tim didn't necessarily want to get into that. As he said, these things weren't basics, but Tony was being pretty free with his life, and even if it was because he was on pain meds, Tim felt he had to reciprocate, at least to some degree.

"Both of my parents are alive. My dad was in the Navy. Mom studied to be a lawyer but never was after Dad got his doctorate."

"You said your dad was Navy."

"He was. He...retired when I was about seven."

"What's with the hesitation?"

"Long story," Tim said. "Probably the longest story I could tell."

"You realize you're just making me want to know more don't you."

"Will you even remember in another hour?"

Tony smiled, but there was a definite slight glaze in his eyes.

"Oh, yes. It might be confused with other things, but I'll remember."

"Dad is an English professor," Tim said, wondering why he hadn't just said that and left it at that. It wasn't like Tony would think to ask about previous military service.

"Any siblings?"

"One. Younger sister. You?"

"Only child."

"I never could decide if I wanted to have a sibling or not," Tim said.

"I'll bet you were a great big brother," Tony said, his words slurring very slightly.

"Why would you say that? You don't even know me."

"You care way too much about things. You'd be the guy who felt like he had to protect his sister from everything."

"And you're getting weird," Tim said.

"I'm on pain pills. I don't like them, but my doctor made me promise to use them for a few days. Then, start getting off them again. I'm getting off them, but I don't react well. At least, I don't hallucinate like some people."

"Are you okay by yourself like this?"

"Yeah. I'll just fall asleep after a while."

Tim looked at Tony as he seemed to relax completely. He wasn't really asleep just yet, but he was certainly not fully awake. It was probably time to go.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you ask me to come over here? It can't be because you think I'm interesting. I know I'm not, no matter what you keep saying."

"You are, but there' smore," Tony said, barely awake.

"What?"

"You think all the time," he mumbled. "Thought you might like a break from thinking about the bad stuff. Think about easy things for a while."

"Oh." Tim didn't know how to take that kind of concern from someone he still wasn't sure about.

Tony managed another smile.

"You're welcome," he said. His eyes closed.

Tim sat there, staring at Tony who was now fully asleep. He wasn't sure what to do about that, but he didn't want to sit here and stare at someone who was sleeping. He knew that Tony had done it for him, but this was a different situation and if Tony didn't need him here, Tim really didn't want to _be_ here and he wanted to go back home.

But at the same time, it seemed really wrong just to walk out.

But he felt so awkward.

_Maybe if I just left a note or something. Then, when he woke up, he'd know that I just left and...something._

And then Tim felt like an idiot for thinking Tony would care.

But Tony was just lying there, dead to the world. What about making sure his door was locked when he left? He couldn't just leave Tony vulnerable to someone who might happen to come by.

Tim wanted to call someone to find out what he should do, but at the same time, he was really embarrassed that he couldn't just figure this out for himself. Could he chalk this up to his lingering stupidity or was it just something innately wrong with him?

Finally, irritated at himself, Tim got up and walked over to the old computer Tony owned where he found a pen and a piece of scratch paper. Quickly, he wrote a note thanking Tony for his time and saying that he was leaving which he felt stupid for writing as he would be very obviously gone when Tony woke up. Then, he set it by Tony's chair, so he'd see it when he woke up. Thankfully, while he obviously couldn't put on the chain, the door did have an automatic lock and so Tim just made sure that the door was definitely locked when he left.

Then, he hurried out of the building, calling for a cab on his way, and he went back home.

Once inside, he put on all his locks and sat down on his couch.

...and he was surprised that he actually felt a bit better than he had when he'd left.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Tony didn't know how long he slept, but he awoke to his phone ringing. It pulled him out of his mostly-drugged slumber and he sat up, fumbling for his phone.

"'lo?" He managed the final syllable, nothing more.

"_DiNozzo?"_

Tony took a deep breath and tried to wake up.

"Yeah?"

"_What's wrong with you?"_

"Painkillers. Who is this?"

"_Who do you think?"_

Tony sighed and then yawned. "Oh. Sacks. What do you want?"

"_Is McGee still with you?"_

Tony opened his eyes and looked around. He didn't see any sign of Tim. Perhaps it had been in poor taste to invite him over and then take pills that he knew made him drowsy. Then, he smiled a little when he noticed the note Tim had left for him.

"No. He went home."

"_Where are you?"_

"My home. I needed to take my pills. Tim came with me, but he's gone back to his place."

"_Well, that's better than the alternative, I guess."_

"What do you mean? I'm not quite awake yet."

"_I mean that I've been thinking about this and I think that Dr. McGee needs to tell us what he can. If it pushes him too far this time and he has a complete breakdown, at least more than one person will know and he can get help recovering from it."_

"You think someone will be gunning for _him_ now?" Tony asked, starting to feel more awake.

"_Someone already was willing to threaten him. Someone was already following him. How much further do they have to go before you think it's a genuine danger, DiNozzo?"_

"Give me a break. I'm injured."

"_I don't have to. You're sure he's at home?"_

"Sure as I can be without calling him to check."

"_Do that. And tell him that an FBI agent is going to be outside his building, just in case. So if he sees a tall, balding white guy, mid-fifties, leaning on a black sedan, that's who it is. It's unofficial protection, not someone coming after him."_

"Who did you get to do that without making this official?"

"_Just another agent that I can trust to keep things to himself until it's necessary to share. He was willing to do it. He remembers Dr. McGee from last year."_

"When do you want Tim to come and tell what he can? Today?"

"_No. It's too late for that. But first thing tomorrow. I think this is big, DiNozzo. Bigger than one computer professor should have to deal with alone. Way bigger than Benedict should have been trying to uncover on his own, although I can at least give him the benefit of assuming that he didn't realize how big it was at first."_

"Why?"

"_Because more than a year later, someone is delivering threats. And the new partner of Benedict's partner is watching Dr. McGee. This stinks to high heaven, and the fumes are getting to me."_

Tony couldn't resist it. "You implying that _you_ are in heaven?"

"_Ha. Not yet, I'm not. And I don't plan on getting there anytime soon. Just tell him, DiNozzo. Needle me later."_

Sacks hung up without another word. Tony sat in his chair for a few minutes, just trying to digest everything. The pain pills definitely slowed him down, but boy, did they work. However, the pain wasn't as bad after a couple of days and he thought he could handle taking a lot less. Just enough to take the edge off, not enough to knock him out.

Another deep breath and he thought about what to do. He did feel bad about falling asleep, especially when he had _known_ he'd fall asleep when he took the pills. He should have warned Tim more explicitly about what to expect, but he probably had been more distracted by the pain than he'd realized. Well, too late to fix that now, but he could apologize.

He dialed Tim's phone, hoping that he'd answer this time.

The phone rang a number of times and then went to voice mail.

"_This is Tim McGee. Please leave a message as I am currently screening all my calls."_

Tony smiled a little. At least he was now coherent enough to leave a more normal message, even if it did indicate a continued anxiety after the last message.

"Hey, Tim. It's Tony. I'm sorry about conking out on you. I should have warned you that the pills really do a number on my ability to think. I need to talk to you. Business this time, unfortunately. Call me back."

Tony hung up and then stood to go into the kitchen. It just registered on him that it was evening, heading toward night. Oops. He really had conked out. But then, he'd probably been exerting himself way more than he should have. His doctor would ream him for that. He got some food out for dinner, just simple stuff he could do one-handed and then, his phone rang. He ran over to answer it and was disappointed to see it was Sam, even though he'd normally be happy to chat with his friend.

"Hello?"

"_Tony, Moroni told me that you got hurt, that some guy stabbed you! How are you doing?"_

"It's just my arm, but I won't be playing basketball for a while. I'm home for the next week or so until I can get out of the sling and do something. For now, I'm trying to rest."

"_Trying? I'll bet you're not succeeding. You need anything?"_

"Not right now."

"_How about dinner?"_

"I'm managing. I've got some leftovers I can zap."

"_Good. Well, how about I bring you some dinner on Sunday? You'll probably be out of leftovers by then, won't you?"_

"I'm sure I will."

"_Then, I'll do it and no refusals. I may not be as good a cook as you and it wouldn't be Italian, but I cook a mean roast."_

Tony laughed. "Okay, okay. How could I refuse? I get the leftovers, too?"

"_Just this once."_

"Thanks, Sam."

"_Anytime. You let us know if you need anything. I know we're mostly basketball buddies, but you can call on any of us if you need it."_

"Thanks. I know I can."

"_Good. I hope you get better sooner rather than later."_

"Me, too. Bye."

Tony hung up and went back into the kitchen. He got his leftovers into the microwave when his phone rang again. He hurried back to answer it.

It was Tim this time.

"Hello?"

"_Hi. It's Tim."_

"Yeah. Sorry about that. If I wanted to chat with you, I should have done it when I knew I wouldn't be falling asleep."

"_It's fine. What business?"_

"You get back to your place okay?"

"_Yeah."_

"Good. Sacks is worried about the threat you got so he got a friend of his to watch your place. If you notice a balding white guy with a black sedan, he's official so don't worry about him."

"_...uh...okay. Is that it?"_

Tony could hear the increased stress just in the short question.

"No. I hate to do this, but Sacks has decided that we need to know what you know. All of it."

A long pause.

"_When?"_

"First thing tomorrow morning."

Another long pause.

"_Why?"_

"Because whatever you've been doing is getting negative attention."

"_Oh."_

"You're not in this alone, Tim. Got that? That's why we want to have you tell us what's going on. That way, you're not the only person who knows. It's better that way, even if it's hard for you to tell us."

Another silence.

"Tim? You still there?"

"_Y-Yeah. I am."_

"I know that you don't want to. I get that, but can you understand why we need to push you on it?"

"_Yeah."_

These nearly one-word answers were a little disconcerting. Tim wasn't happy about what Tony was saying, but Tony was worried that just the dread of it would drive Tim away from doing anything more, and he didn't want that. Really, Tim didn't want that, either. He just didn't feel like he could handle anything else.

"Would you feel better doing it at your place or at the FBI?"

"_N-Not at..."_

"Not with the police. I promise. That's not even on the table."

"_Here. I don't want to go out."_

"Gotcha. I'll tell Sacks."

"_Okay."_

"Tim, one more thing."

"_Yeah?"_

"You're really not boring."

To his relief, Tony heard a slight chuckle.

"_Since you talked to me while you were on drugs, I don't know that I can take that as a compliment."_

Tony grinned at the wry tone. It was nice to hear Tim sounding normal or at least what Tony assumed was normal for him.

"I told you that I'd remember everything we talked about. And I do. You're not boring. You're really interesting, actually. Way more interesting than I thought a computer geek would be."

"_Thanks. I think."_

"You're welcome."

"_And...Tony. Thanks for...helping me think about something else. It took me weeks after...everything... to be able to think about anything else. I could only think about what I'd seen and what had...happened. I was scared of it happening again. I still am, and to get out of that is hard sometimes. That's why I try not to think of it at all."_

"You're welcome."

"_Do you really think that going over everything at once will help...solve the case?"_

"I take it you don't have a name?"

"_No. Not right now."_

"Yes, it will. Eventually. Faster than if we don't have anything."

"_I don't want to do this, you know. I hate how it makes me feel."_

"I know, but I think it'll probably help in the long run."

"_I know that should matter, but it doesn't."_

Tim was obviously a lot more forthright when he could hide behind a phone...or a screen. In person was scary because the interaction was right there and he'd learned in the worst possible way that sometimes the real interactions could be horrible.

"I get that."

"_Are you feeling okay?"_

"Yeah. Much better than I was earlier."

Another hesitation.

"What?"

"_Doesn't it scare you? Don't you worry that it'll happen again?"_

"Not really. In my job, you have to work under the assumption that anything could happen, but a lot of the time, people are predictable."

"_But when they're not, it could get you killed."_

"I'm a cop, Tim. That's the job I signed on for. I didn't go into it thinking I was somehow protected from bad stuff."

Then, suddenly, it struck Tony that Tim was asking for more than one reason. Something utterly unpredictable was what got him into the situation he was in now. The absolute fear and the worry that he couldn't tell anyone the real reason for it had isolated Tim and led him to a life that was pretty hollow. Maybe he couldn't fully understand the reasons for Tim's reaction, but he could at least acknowledge there was fear involved.

"...but I will admit that I'll probably be more wary around drunks for a while after I go back. I might be more likely to search them for weapons, just in case they're carrying. It's mostly a matter of getting through the inital worry and keeping on. Besides, I have a partner to watch my back and that always helps. Clark was there this time, too. It's just that neither of us realized that he had a weapon."

"_Someone had your back."_

"Yeah." Should he say it? Why not? He meant it. "And Tim, I'm sorry you didn't have that last year."

One more pause.

"_So am I."_ Then, there was a deep breath. _"Tomorrow morning?"_

"Yeah. Probably no later than eight or nine."

"_Okay."_

Tony was about to say goodbye, when Tim actually managed to surprise him.

"_Will you be there or just Agent Sacks?"_

"Do you _want_ me to be there?"

Tim sounded embarrassed, but he answered. _"Yes. I know you better than I know him. ...maybe if there had been two cops in that room..."_

Ah, the fear of what might happen to him. Tony could respect that. He almost thought that the assault by Archer had been more traumatizing than seeing Benedict killed.

"If you want me there, I'll be there. Besides, that will give me something to do _and_ I'll get to satisfy my curiosity about what's been going on."

"_Maybe. If I don't humiliate myself again."_

"You haven't yet."

"_Right. Tomorrow, then."_

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

"_Okay. Bye."_

Tim hung up. Tony sat back for a moment and thought about the conversation. That Tim did _not_ want to do this was no surprise. And actually, the more he got to know Tim, the more he felt that Tim's reluctant agreement to do it even though he didn't want to wasn't a surprise either. Tim wanted to do the right thing, and Tony could tell that he felt some responsibility for what had happened.

Hopefully, tomorrow would give them the jumpstart they needed to solve this case.

With that thought, Tony got up and went back into the kitchen to eat his dinner.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim set his phone down and sat on the floor by his windows, looking out over Baltimore, looking out of his self-imposed prison.

He didn't want tomorrow to come. ...but he also wanted tomorrow to be over already. He just didn't want to experience tomorrow.

But Tony could deal with getting stabbed. Tim should be able to handle a guy being in the park at the same time he did.

However, Tim could berate himself until he was figuratively blue in the face, but it didn't change the fact that he was too scared to go anywhere while he felt like he was in genuine danger. And Sacks had acted like he thought Tim was in danger, too. So it had become less paranoia and more reality.

He looked back at the computer. He hadn't touched it in a couple of days. It was just sitting there, waiting for him to get back his nerve and wake it up.

That wasn't happening tonight. Tomorrow, he might not have his nerve, but he'd have people who forced him to do it whether he was ready or not.

"Not," he whispered. "I'm not ready. I'll never be ready."

But the information was there. He had to say something or else...maybe he could just give over his computer to the FBI and let them figure it out on their own.

"No," he whispered. "I can't keep hiding. I have to do what I can whether I _feel_ like I can or not. At least then, I can have that be the last breakdown. Maybe."

No matter what he said to himself, though, he didn't think he could relax enough to sleep. Not for a long time.

But tomorrow would come no matter how slowly it arrived.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Tony woke up to his phone ringing yet again. He remembered at the last second not to roll over onto his injured arm and also remembered to look at the display to see who was calling him. He groaned.

"Sacks, you're way worse than an alarm clock."

"_If you're coming with me, you need to be getting up anyway."_

"What?" Tony looked at the clock. "It's only seven."

"_Yeah, and you'll need time to get ready. Besides, I'm offering you a ride so you don't have to get a taxi."_

Tony sat up in bed, furrowing his brow.

"Who are you and what have you done to the FBI agent I loathe?"

"_I'm taking pity on your pitiful condition. You want to take a taxi, feel free."_

"Oh, I wouldn't want to deprive you of the opportunity to show such generosity," Tony said. "When will you be here?"

"_In about half an hour, so don't drag this out. I'm not interested in your excuses. Do you want the ride or don't you?"_

"Yeah, sure. Save me the cost of a taxi."

"_Good. Be ready."_

"I will."

Tony hung up and gently flexed his right arm. He winced. Nope. Not magically better yet. He should stop expecting it to be magically better. Well, no sense in putting things off, but he could take a smaller dose of his painkiller and not be knocked out by it. He might still be a little slower than he'd like, but he would be able to think and not have to deal with the pain. As quickly as he could, he got dressed and ate some cereal for breakfast. Not only did he need to eat just because he needed to have breakfast, he also needed to take his pill with food, too.

He was just finishing his last bite when there was a knock on the door.

"Come on, Sacks," he muttered to himself as he got up. "No one is that punctual."

He walked over to the door and looked through the peephole and stopped in surprise.

It was _not_ Sacks.

He opened the door.

"Archer, what brings _you_ here so early in the morning?" Tony asked.

Archer smiled. "Just checking up on you. One of your own gets hurt and you want to make sure everything's going okay."

Tony forced himself to smile back as he began to feel a little bit of suspicion. He held up his arm.

"The sling is mostly just for show. I'm not supposed to move it around too much while the muscle is healing. So I'm being pretty lazy."

"Not going out much?"

"Not much, but I do have someone coming by in a few minutes," Tony said, hoping that if Sacks _did_ show up on time, Archer wouldn't realize who it was. Tony couldn't remember if Archer had known exactly who was responsible for Tony's problems during that case. Everyone had known about it, but had he specified which agent? He couldn't remember now.

Why was Archer here?

"Hanging out?"

"Well, I have to do _something_ to pass the time. It's not my usual to have nothing to do and to be _told_ to have nothing to do."

Tony also hoped it wouldn't be blatantly obvious that he wasn't interested in letting Archer into his apartment.

"Thanks for coming by," Tony said after an awkward moment. "I need to take my painkiller. I'd just finished breakfast when you knocked. I didn't think you lived in the area."

"I don't. I was just on my way to a meeting and realized I was near your place, so I decided to stop in. Glad you're doing better."

"Thanks. I'll be back at work, annoying people before you know it."

Archer chuckled and then said goodbye and left. Tony closed the door and sat down on his couch for a moment to think. Why had Archer dropped by before work on a regular day? They weren't friends. In fact, even before all this, Tony hadn't really liked Archer all that much. He had always found him much too abrasive and willing to step over the line when there was no reason to do so. To have him be all concerned for Tony's welfare rang false. Had he wanted to come in? If so, did he have a reason? Right at this moment, Tony felt he could finally understand Tim's fear to some extent. It was something that, on the surface, shouldn't be worrying, but it was.

Another few minutes and a twinge in his arm reminded Tony that he still needed to take his pill. He got up and went into the kitchen to do just that when there was another knock on his door. This time, Tony grabbed his gun, even if it was with his nondominant hand. He could still shoot, especially at close range. He checked through his peephole again and then had to put down the gun to open the door.

"Sacks, you're late," he said, feeling more relieved than he'd ever admit.

"Late? Come on. I said _about_ half an hour, not _exactly_ half an hour. Not even you can be that anal." Then, Sacks raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Come inside, just for a minute."

Sacks' eyebrow went up even further, but he stepped inside and Tony saw when he noticed the gun on the table.

"What's going on?" Sacks asked again.

"Did you see a guy outside my place just now. Youngish, dark hair, kind of a permanent scowl, even if he's smiling, wearing a leather jacket?"

"Yeah, I passed him as I was coming in."

"He give you any kind of scrutiny?"

"A little bit, but you know, DiNozzo, I get quite a bit of scrutiny on a regular basis. It's a well-known hazard."

"Yeah, but this guy was just here in my apartment."

"Who is he? I'm guessing that you know."

"Keith Archer."

To Tony's surprise, Sacks actually chuckled a little.

"What's so funny?"

"I've seen his picture, but I didn't recognize him. I was about to say that all you white guys look alike."

Tony couldn't help but smile back.

"I don't have a perma-scowl and my wardrobe is way better."

"Well, that leather jacket won't win any fashion prizes, I admit."

"Did he stick around?"

"Not that I could tell, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. Why was he here?"

"Supposedly to see how I'm doing, but Archer isn't like that and I've never really liked him. There's no reason for him to be showing up before work."

"How could he know?"

"Maybe Blaser told him."

"You think he's part of it?"

"I'm starting to wonder if that's why Benedict didn't say anything, not even to his partner...because he thought his partner _was _part of it."

"Well, do you think he knows who _I _am? That could be suspicious to him if I'm coming around here, knowing how we hate each other's guts."

"I don't know. Everyone knows I had problems with you last year, but I don't know how many of them actually knew who you were."

"Well, we can't just hang out in your apartment all day. So let's go. We'll have to risk it."

"Okay."

"You ready?"

"Just need to take a pill."

"I don't need you in a stupor, DiNozzo."

"Just one to take the edge off. Not enough to knock me out."

"Well, do it and stop wasting time."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You're the one who was late."

Tony went into the kitchen, took his pill and then left his apartment with Sacks. As he stepped out, he glanced around to see if he could spot Archer _or_ Blaser, but he didn't see them. So he walked with Sacks and got into his car.

"We don't need to tell Tim about this," Tony said as they went. "Right now, he's having a hard enough time dealing with what he knows."

"Yeah. You want to try and take the lead with this? He already knows you."

"Yeah, but you trusted him more."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you assumed he was right and I assumed he was just freaking out."

"And you say that _I_ jump to conclusions," Sacks said.

"You do."

"Apparently, you're not immune."

"I never accused a guy of murder."

"Nope. You just treated an accusation of murder like a big joke."

"That's because I couldn't believe that anyone would think it was a remote possibility."

"Even when evidence said it was?"

Sometimes, Tony marveled at how easy it was for them to say the exact same things to each other without getting tired of the repetition. It was like they were speaking two completely different languages about the same subject without any resolution. They just talked in circles over and over again.

And then, something changed. It wasn't much, because it was stating the obvious, but it was still something.

"But you ended up being right anyway, so why keep bringing it up? It's not like I tried to suppress the evidence that exonerated you."

"You didn't look too hard for it, either."

"Look, DiNozzo, I'm an investigator. So are you. Put yourself in my place. If you had a guy who you thought had killed someone and he was laughing and joking about it, wouldn't you be more than a little suspicious, especially when evidence supported your suspicion? Be honest."

Tony grimaced and didn't answer...because he knew that he'd probably react the same way, if he was actually honest, but it still rankled.

To his surprise, Sacks didn't even push him on it. He could have, but he didn't. The rest of the drive to Tim's place was silent.

When they arrived, Tony couldn't help but be worried about what Tim would be like when they got up there. Better or worse than the day before? Better hopefully, but Tony wasn't sure he could expect that.

They went to the building to get Tim to buzz them in. They waited for a few seconds.

"He going to let us in?" Sacks asked.

"Hope so."

"_Yes?"_

"It's Tony and...Ron," Tony said.

Sacks raised an eyebrow at him and Tony just shrugged. Why make it easier for people to think it was important by using titles?

"Can we come up?"

A long pause.

"_Yeah."_

The door unlocked and they went up to Tim's apartment. Sacks knocked on the door and Tony was a little dismayed when it opened. It looked like Tim hadn't slept a wink all night long.

"You all right, Tim?" he asked.

Tim just shook his head and stood aside to let them in. As soon as they came in, he was behind them closing and locking the door and then he didn't turn around. He sighed.

"I couldn't stop worrying," he said, staring at the door. "I might have got an hour of sleep all together, but I couldn't stop worrying. I know you're right and this has to be done. I even think it _should _be... but I can't stop thinking that this is just going to get someone else killed."

"It's not."

Tim finally turned around to face them.

"That's what I thought before, too. I thought that there was no real danger. It was all... It was just a project. Nothing more. I knew it was serious, but I didn't know it was serious enough to kill over. I would never have..."

He shook his head again and stared at the floor.

"It's not your fault that Benedict died," Tony said.

"Yes, it is," Tim said. "Whatever else... That is. At least partly."

"Why would you say that?" Sacks asked.

"Because it was my fault that we were in that alley."

Sacks looked at Tony who just shrugged a little.

"What do you mean, Tim?" Tony asked. "What happened?"

"I found something, but I was busy on campus and by the time I could get a hold of John, he was busy, too. I didn't want to have to meet up somewhere else and I wanted to share what I'd found." Tim laughed a little, but still looked at the floor. "John was skeptical. He said that I'd said that way too many times and had nothing for him to trust me this time. He was joking, but it was true. I had thought I'd found something a few times before and jumped the gun. I meant it though. So I told him that he'd need to come over close to campus. He didn't want to. He said it was risking people connecting what we were doing, but I didn't really think anything would happen. Nothing had before. He picked the alley, but it was my fault we were in that area instead of just waiting until we both had time for him to come over here. We were always safe here."

Tony paused for a moment, waiting to see if Tim would say anything else. He didn't.

"Tim, that still doesn't make it your fault. Besides, telling us will make things better, not worse. Then, we can figure out who the people involved are and what the whole deal is."

Tim finally looked up.

"Or it could be just enough to make you dangerous to them."

"Maybe, but we'll never know until we get more information. And you're the only one who can give us that," Tony said.

Tim took a deep breath and then nodded.

"I know. I wish that wasn't true."

"Can't change that now," Sacks said.

"I know that, too."

Then, Tim walked over to his computer, and turned on the monitor. He looked back at them.

"I'm really sorry if I have another meltdown. I haven't been able to talk about this yet without doing that."

"Just get started," Sacks said, but not rudely. "It'll only get worse if you just sit here dreading it."

Tony wasn't sure if that was exactly sensitive enough, but Tim actually smiled.

"Yeah. All night."

Then, another deep breath and he turned back to the computer.

"It's really not about the police department itself," he said after a moment of silence. "It's about smuggling. Black market weapons, mostly guns, but some explosives."

"And cops are helping?"

"Yeah. At least one is in your district," Tim said. His voice was soft, slow and very hesitant, but he was speaking coherently. "If it goes beyond that, I don't know. I haven't looked."

"If we can get this much, the FBI will take over," Sacks said. "And don't even think about protesting, DiNozzo. This goes way beyond the BPD. You _need_ the FBI in on this, but only when I've seen the evidence."

"Right," Tony said. Then, he looked at Tim who hadn't really moved from his position, staring at the screen. "How do you know about this?"

Another deep breath. Tim opened up a file.

"This is a case from three years ago. A murder. The weapon was illegal. It was the third murder using that type in just over a year. John was the investigator, and just when they were thinking they'd get a break, their main suspect disappeared. It happens sometimes, but because it had happened more than once, he started thinking that there was more to it. I started looking into it, but at first, I didn't know what to look for. I'm not a cop."

There was a long pause and yet another deep breath.

"So what did you do?" Tony asked, trying to sound encouraging.

"I wasn't making headway just looking at the cases John wanted me to look at. So I decided to pull out from the details to the broad strokes. I set up a program to track down who was handling all the evidence in any case involving gun violence in the district, going back ten years. There was one username that came up multiple times. More than any detective should have, even if he was the best. The dates on the access were far too close together to make sense for it to be just a detective examining his own cases."

"What's the username?" Tony asked. He knew the patterns for usernames in the BPD. It should have been easy enough to check it.

"That's the thing. It was hidden."

"You just said there was a username," Sacks pointed out.

"I know, but at first, I couldn't see what it was. I just could tell that there was a name I should be seeing. Whoever was doing it was pretty good and knew how the system worked, so he could get around some of the security measures. When I finally uncovered it...that's when I told John about it. I never got a chance to tell him the name."

"What was it?" Tony asked.

"0907xra."

"That's not a normal username for the BPD," Tony said. "I know the standard and they don't really like us getting too creative."

Tim nodded and then grabbed a scrap of paper from the counter and passed it over to Tony. He looked at it and his eyes widened. He passed it over to Sacks.

"ARX70/90," Sacks said softly. "The AR70/90 is a Beretta. Why the X, though? There's an ARX160, but not 70/90."

"I don't know, but the username is obviously referring to automatic rifles," Tony said. "Seems a little _too _obvious."

"Only if you could see it," Tim said. "I had to do some work to uncover it. Most people wouldn't even know."

"And what was this username doing?" Tony asked.

"Shifting evidence locations around, sending fingerprints to other places to be processed so that they'd take longer, bullets going missing for just long enough. John thought that some of the weapons were being tampered with, but without actually inspecting them, he couldn't be sure, and he was worried about being seen."

"Anything else?" Tony asked, impressed that Tim had kept it together so far.

Tim turned around.

"A name."

"A cop? The one using the username?"

"No. I don't know who that is...so far. Ed Halligan is the name. He's the guy who got away to Morocco five years ago...that Benedict told me about. I..."

Now, Tim was starting to get worked up again. Something was eating at him, and it was amazing how easy it was for Tony to see it when he knew to look.

"Calm down, Tim," he said. "Just remember that you're telling us something that already happened, not something happening now. Who is Ed Halligan?"

"A drug dealer," Sacks said, unexpectedly stepping in.

"How do _you_ know?" Tony asked.

"He was involved in the local gangs, mostly small-time stuff, but with the potential to become a lot bigger. He's supposed to be in Morocco avoiding extradition, although even Interpol acknowledges they might miss him with the way things run over there. Too many places he could get across the border and move on. So it's possible that they missed him."

"They did," Tim said.

Tony looked at Sacks and then back at Tim.

"How do you know?" Tony asked.

"He..." Tim closed his eyes and breathed deeply, clearly trying to control himself. "He was in the alley that night."

"What?"

"Halligan was there when... when... John was killed."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"_Good. You're here," Benedict said. "I was getting worried."_

"_What's wrong?" Tim asked._

"_I just don't like this. I've got a bad feeling. Whatever you've got had better be good."_

"_It is," Tim said. "I've got a username."_

"_Doing what?"_

"_All the things you were asking me to look for. And people choose usernames that they'll remember, so that means you might be able to figure out who based on the username. It didn't mean anything to me, but maybe it will to you. I..."_

_Benedict suddenly held up his hand._

"_Wait."_

"_What?"_

_He pushed Tim back into the shadows._

"_Don't move."_

"_John, what..."_

"_Shut up! Keep out of sight. Don't let anyone see you."_

_When Tim didn't move fast enough, Benedict physically pushed him into a shadowy doorway. It was a little alcove, not a lot of room and completely dark. He couldn't see anything. Tim wasn't thrilled about being in that space, but he recognized that there was something serious going on._

_Then, a car pulled into the alley. For whatever reason, Benedict wasn't trying to hide himself as well. Tim wasn't sure why that was, but he kept hidden and quiet._

_The car pulled up beside Benedict and he might even have looked a little relieved._

"_What are you doing here?" he asked whoever was in the car._

_Tim tried to see, but the headlights, combined with the fact that there was just a bad angle glare on the windshield, he couldn't see the person in the passenger seat. But he could see the one who was driving._

_He recognized that face! He'd seen the mugshot of this man multiple times over the last few months as he'd been searching the files. It was Ed Halligan. Slightly different, but there was no mistake. Tim knew that was who was driving the car._

_And so did Benedict. Tim could see it in his stance, the moment he had come to the same conclusion._

_But who was in the passenger seat? It was obvious that Benedict knew who it was, so it must be a cop. It must be the owner of the username, but who was it?_

"_I never would have thought that..." Benedict began, sounding disgusted._

_Then, Tim leaned too heavily against the wall and some junk fell to the ground. Benedict turned away from the car. He briefly made eye contact with Tim who was standing in the shadows._

_Then, there were three shots._

_Tim wasn't sure he'd ever even _heard_ a gunshot before, not in real life, but it was unmistakable._

_And it was unmistakable just who had been shot. Benedict staggered and then slid down the wall to the ground where he began to bleed out on the road._

_Shocked beyond measure, Tim backed away, but there was nowhere to go._

"_You see anyone in there?"_

Where I am!_ Tim thought frantically. He had no idea what to do. He couldn't see a thing in this space, but he could feel that it wasn't that big. If whoever it was came in here, he'd be dead._

_Tim began to feel a real panic, total helplessness at what was coming. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't hide. He couldn't fight, especially not against a gun. He was about to die._

_Then, there was a voice._

"_Forget it! I see headlights. Let's get out of here!"_

_The presence that had been coming closer suddenly vanished. Tim heard a car door open and close and then the engine as the car drove away. He sagged to his knees in abject relief._

_Then, he remembered that someone actually had died. He forced himself to his feet and staggered out into the alley once more._

_And he saw Benedict. Dead on the ground. Three bullets to the chest._

_Tim felt sick. He wanted to throw up, but he knew he had to call for help. He pulled out his phone...and then stopped. He was about to call the police. But he was absolutely sure that it was a cop who had done this. It was a cop who had helped Ed Halligan get back into the country. It was a cop who had been smuggling. If he called and explained what had been going on, he would be telling that cop that there had been a witness. What chance did he have then?_

_None._

_Quickly, he made a decision. He knelt down by Benedict and forced himself to check for a pulse. Nothing. Then, he pulled out his phone once more._

"911. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"_I saw a man get shot," Tim said. "He's dead. I don't know what to do!"_

"All right, sir. Where are you?"

_Tim gave the address and then began to establish the lie._

"_I was just walking by this little alley and I heard people fighting. I stopped to see what was going on, and... and..." He fumbled a little, not knowing how to explain that he had seen something without admitting that he'd been there all along, that the only thing he didn't know was which cop was the killer. "...and I tried to stop the fight, but one of the guys pulled a gun and shot the other guy and then drove off!"_

"All right, sir. I've dispatched officers to your location. Are you in any danger?"

"_I... I don't think so. I... The car drove away. I didn't see where it went. This guy is dead!" It was hard not saying Benedict's name, but he had to establish that he didn't know anyone involved._

"I want you to stay on the line until the police arrive, sir. What's your name?"

"_Tim... Tim McGee. I'm a professor. I was just walking by and... and he's dead."_

_While he had the presence of mind to make sure no one realized what he'd been doing there, Tim's shock at Benedict's sudden death was unfeigned. He had never expected this venture to lead to death. It was just computers. It wasn't about real life, not really. Until now._

_Now, he was more and more horrified as he knelt there, staring at Benedict's body. All the blood on the ground, staining his shirt and jacket. His empty eyes staring up at the sky. And it was only luck that Tim wasn't in the same state. He knew it. He should be dead, too. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't. That would look suspicious, and if he didn't want to be killed, too, he had to be an innocent passerby. Wrong place at the wrong time._

"Sir? Can you hear me?"

"_He's dead," Tim said again._

"I understand that. Can you hear sirens yet? They should be arriving at your location any moment now."

_Tim listened and realized that, yes, there were sirens coming ever closer._

_Cops coming ever closer to him._

_Perhaps the one who had killed Benedict coming ever closer. He was terrified, but he couldn't run away._

"_I h-hear th-them," he said, stammering._

"Good. Once they're on site, they'll take over and you'll be in good hands, understand?"

"_Y-Yes. He's dead."_

"You'll be all right."

_The lights were now visible and there were police pulling into the alley from both sides. Tim felt trapped and in danger, but he didn't move. His fear froze him in place instead of making him flee._

"_This is the Baltimore Police Department! Put your hands in the air!"_

_Tim did so and two officers came up to him._

"_Name?"_

"_T-Tim M-M-McGee," he said. "The 911 lady is still on my phone!"_

_The guns went down instantly._

"_Sorry about that, sir. What happened?"_

_Tim began to tell his story again and just hoped that he could escape soon._

_He felt like he was surrounded by enemies with nowhere to turn._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim! Come on! Snap out of it!"

The voice sounded like it was coming from a long way away. He wasn't sure where the voice was, but it wasn't where he was.

"Tim, can you hear me? Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

There was someone holding onto his arms.

He couldn't see anything but the alley, the flashing lights of the police cars, the flashlights of the officers.

And Benedict dead on the ground.

Then, there was a stinging sensation on his cheek and his eyes flew open.

And Tim realized that he was _not_ in that alley. He was in his own apartment, currently staring at Sacks, Tony standing to the side of him.

"It's all right, Tim. Calm down. It's okay. Can you hear me?" Tony asked.

Tim knew that he shouldn't be freaking out like this. He was taking deep breaths, trying to get himself to calm down, but even though he _knew_ that there was no reason to freak out, his mind insisted that there was. He couldn't not. He hadn't been forced to relive that night in a long time. The details were so vivid in his mind.

"He was there," Tim whispered. "I couldn't see the other one. I tried, but I couldn't. All I could see was..."

"It's all right," Sacks said. "No one expects you to now anyway."

Tim kept breathing heavily and his vision was clearing and he realized that he was nearly dangling in Sacks' grip. He got his feet under him and stood up. As soon as he did, Sacks let go and stepped back, giving Tim space. He saw that he wasn't very far from the stool he'd been sitting on and stumbled to it and then sat down heavily enough that he almost toppled the stool over. Tony steadied him which embarrassed Tim more than a little, given Tony's injury. He shouldn't need an injured man to help him remain upright.

For a while, there was only silence. Part of Tim wished that they'd ask him if he could handle any more because he'd be able to say no. Part of him hoped that they didn't because if they did, he'd say no. However, gradually, he calmed down enough to look at them again. They were waiting. Tim knew he needed to tell them more, but he hated when he got stuck in these moments that he couldn't forget. He just wanted all this to be over.

But it wasn't. Not even a year later. Tim was starting to wonder if it could _ever_ be over. He took another breath, not wanting to go on, not even a little bit, but knowing that he needed to.

"You ready?" Sacks asked, not impatiently.

"No," Tim said.

"Can you do it anyway?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay. I know this sucks, Tim, but we've got to know."

"I know."

"Ed Halligan was there that night."

"Yes."

"And there was someone else?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't see him."

"No. There was... a glare. But... John... he knew who he was talking to."

"How could you tell that?" Tony asked.

"The way he looked, the way h-h-he talked to him. It was... obvious, but then... he saw Halligan."

"Where were you?"

"In a dark doorway. I couldn't see anything inside. Only...out there. I tripped," Tim said, feeling the guilt again. "I made noise. I... I distracted him. John could have... if he hadn't been worried about me. The detective who... he said it was my fault. He didn't know the... the real details, but he was... right."

"No, he wasn't, not even a little bit," Tony said. "Archer wasn't..."

Then, suddenly, Tony stopped and stared at Sacks. Tim followed his gaze.

"What?" Sacks asked.

Tony swore.

"AR70/90. That's a Beretta."

"Yeah. We already established that," Sacks said. "So?"

Tony looked at Tim and Tim wondered what in the world he was thinking.

"Some of Archer's buddies on the force call _him _Baretta after the TV series."

Tim was glad that Sacks seemed confused as he felt.

"There's a TV show named after a gun?" Sacks asked.

"No! It's spelled differently, but it pretty much sounds the same! Don't you get it? What if Archer made a username that was something he knew but wouldn't look like anything to anyone else...unless they knew him?"

"You're saying that _Archer_ is the one who's doing all this?" Sacks asked. "Does he know enough to stump a computer guy like Dr. McGee?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't have thought so, but..."

"But h-he beat me up," Tim said, softly. "He... If it was him..."

"You said it was someone Benedict knew in the car. Who would he know better than his own partner? And what kind of a shock would it have been for him to see his partner with Halligan who escaped and is supposed to be in hiding?"

"It sounds good, DiNozzo, but what proof do you have?"

Tony looked at Tim again who felt his stomach fill with lead. He shook his head.

"Tim, maybe not today, but this is important. We need to know if Archer could have done this. Without that, it's all just something that sounds good. We need to _know_," Tony said, turning his gaze to Sacks who nodded in agreement.

"And if there's any evidence of how much further it might go," Sacks added. "This could be really big. We've noticed an uptick in illegal firearms the last few months. If Halligan's diversifying into arms smuggling, that's an even bigger issue."

The lead weight got even heavier and Tim felt like his entire body was being dragged down toward the floor. More hacking. More connections. More danger. His brain was starting to seize up, although he didn't think that anyone could tell. His meltdowns weren't always obvious, but this one had grabbed him very firmly, to the point that he couldn't really even move. He felt trapped. He felt like, at any moment, he would be discovered.

What if the bad guy was in a building facing his own? He could take a potshot and hit one of them!

He had to close the curtains.

Tim stood up, but as soon as he did, it felt like all the blood drained out of his head and, with a single step, he began to crumple toward the floor, the darkness rushing in.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Tim's precipitous rise and equally precipitous fall were equally surprising as far as Tony was concerned. Tim had been sitting so limply on the stool that he hadn't thought anything of it. But then, Tim had nearly leapt to his feet, taken a few steps and gone completely white and then fallen to the floor, all in about two seconds. He hurried over and knelt down beside Tim while Sacks knelt on the other side.

"What just happened?" Tony asked.

"No idea," Sacks said. "I know you're going to say no, but we should take him to a doctor."

"Give him a chance to wake up," Tony said. He actually agreed with Sacks, but given Tim's reaction to other aspects of his situation, he rather thought that Tim would resist any such move.

And thankfully, Tim's eyes opened slightly only a few seconds after his fall. He was still very pale, but he was awake.

"Tim, can you hear me? You all right?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Tim whispered. "What happened?"

"You passed out," Sacks said. "What were you doing?"

"Curtains," Tim said.

"What about them?"

"Maybe...someone in the buildings... What if they could see me?" Tim said, vaguely. He was awake, but not fully aware yet.

"You think you could sit up?"

"Yeah."

Sacks helped Tim sit up, but he seemed very unstable still. Tony didn't push for Tim to stand up.

"Tim, I'm no doctor, but this isn't a normal reaction, not even to anxiety," Sacks said. "You need to get checked out."

"At a hospital?"

"Yeah."

"No. I don't want to leave here."

"We'll take you ourselves, but you need to get checked out. Passing out just from standing up isn't normal."

Tim couldn't say anything against that, but Tony could tell he wanted to.

Then, Tim's phone started ringing.

"You want to answer it, Tim?" Tony asked.

"What's the number?"

"It says _Lewis_."

Tim sighed and held out his hand. It was shaking a little, but Tony could see that Tim felt he had to answer this one.

"Hi, Lewis," he said, sounding very tired and worn. "No, I'm not. No. I just need some time."

There was a pause. Tim rubbed his free hand over his face and closed his eyes.

"No, Lewis. Not today. I can't deal with that today. I'll tell you later. Maybe tomorrow, okay? Yeah, thanks. Bye."

Tim hung up and the hand holding his phone dropped to the floor as if it was just too heavy for him. Tony suddenly had a thought.

"Tim, how long has it been since you actually had anything to eat?"

"Huh?" Tim asked.

"When did you last eat a meal?"

"I don't know."

"You could be dehydrated as much as anything," Tony said. "But Sacks is right, Tim. You really should get checked out. We'll go with you."

Tim shook his head again, but he didn't seem to have the energy to really fight it. Tony decided to use that advantage.

"Yes. You're not looking so hot. You're probably not feeling great. You already passed out once. You're not staying here just because you're feeling intimidated. And guess what. I can keep talking until you agree just because you're sick of hearing it."

"He can," Sacks said. "He's really irritating."

Tony grinned.

Tim didn't say anything. Tony decided to take that as agreement. He almost moved to lift Tim up and then grimaced as he remembered that he couldn't use his right arm. He looked at Sacks and raised an eyebrow.

Sacks actually smiled a little and bent over to help Tim stand up. When Tim was on his feet again, he reeled a little but Sacks was there to support him.

"Gotcha, Dr. McGee," he said.

"I don't...want to..."

"You're going. Then, when the doctor checks you out and says whether or not you're okay, you can come back here again. All right?"

Tim shook his head, but he was clearly not going to be able to protest much.

"Too bad. Decision made. Let's go."

Tony started walking toward the door. He turned back and saw that Tim hadn't started walking yet.

"Let's go," Tony said again.

Sacks took a step forward and pulled Tim along with him. Tim tried to resist for a moment, but Tony could see he just didn't have the energy to keep it up. He tried to think. If Tim had been in a state of shock for nearly a day and if he had stayed up worrying and hadn't thought to eat, it could have been two or three days with no food intake, possibly no water intake either. That wasn't fatal, but combine that with Tim's obvious anxiety and stress, and it was no wonder he'd got overloaded and had a temporary shutdown. Tim needed someone to give him actual medical attention. Psychiatric attention, too, but if Tim refused to talk to someone because of his worries about the dangers, then, physical help would have to suffice for the time being.

They got Tim out of the building and into Sacks' car. Tony was doubly glad that Sacks had given him a ride. They went to the hospital and got Tim inside. Since it was the ER, they had to wait a while for Tim to be seen, but while he had not wanted to come, Tim didn't seem to have the energy to worry. He just sat there, looking tired and listless.

Finally, a doctor came in.

"Hello, Mr. McGee. I understand you passed out?"

Tim nodded.

"I don't think he's eaten in a couple of days," Tony said. "And he's been stressed."

"All right."

The doctor did a full exam and nodded to himself. Then, he left the exam room, saying that he'd be right back. Tim lay back on the bed and actually fell asleep.

"What do you think?" Tony asked in a low voice.

"Do you _care_ what I think?" Sacks asked in return.

"For the moment. I reserve the right to ignore you," Tony said.

"I think that probably half of his problem is stress and anxiety. The other half is not taking very good care of himself. Neither of them can be fixed by us. It has to be him and so far, he hasn't shown much interest in it."

The doctor came back...with a tray of food and water. He set it down by Tim's bed and woke him up. Once Tim was alert enough to listen, the doctor explained.

"Based on what I've seen, I think that poor nutrition is the immediate cause of your loss of consciousness, Mr. McGee. It's a good thing you had friends with you to help out. However, you show all the signs of long-term stress, perhaps even some kind of anxiety disorder. I recommend that you talk to someone from Psych."

Tim shook his head. "No."

"Well, for now, you need to eat and drink everything on this tray. Someone will be back to reevaluate your status soon, but you're not allowed to leave until you've eaten. These things aren't the best tasting we have, but they'll help replace the nutrients you've lost."

Tim nodded and began eating. The doctor left the room again, but gestured at Tony and Sacks. Tony looked at Sacks who seemed to understand and sat down by Tim while Tony followed the doctor out into the hall.

"What exactly happened?" the doctor asked.

"He was sitting on a stool and suddenly, he stood up, but he'd only taken a couple of steps when he suddenly went pale and collapsed. He was only unconscious for a few seconds, but I had no idea it was coming."

"And his anxiety?"

"As far as I know, it's been an issue for a year, but he's refused to talk to anyone about it from what I know."

"As far as you know?"

"I haven't known him for very long, only a few weeks. It's just that Ron and I were there when he collapsed. He has other friends but they weren't the ones present."

"Understood. He really should talk to someone if the stress is this debilitating. I can't force it on him, but he should."

"I know. I've tried to tell him that, too."

"Okay. Given the situation, he'll likely recover enough to leave fairly quickly. We could have sped it up by doing an IV, but he wasn't that severe. Very likely, his blood pressure tanked when he stood up and he just couldn't tolerate it. That can happen with lengthy fasting. Some people do develop a disorder called orthostatic hypotension, but I doubt that this will be long term if he takes care of himself."

"Got it. We'll do the best we can, but he may not listen to us, either."

"Is there anything you can do to remove the source of his anxiety?"

"That's actually exactly what we're trying to do, but I have no way of knowing when it will happen or how long it might take."

"All right. It'll be a little while before we're ready to check him again, and it may not be me that checks him out. I'll try, but if we get a rush of people coming in..."

"I understand. Thank you."

The doctor nodded and headed off to his next patient. Tony went back into the room. Tim was still eating.

"How does it taste?" Tony asked.

"Not great," Tim said.

"You're still eating it."

"The doctor told me to."

"Well, he also told you to talk to someone about the problems you're having," Tony said.

"Not until it's safe," Tim said. "I don't want anyone else..." He trailed off.

"Feeling like you feel?" Tony suggested.

Tim shrugged and looked back down at the tray. Tony looked at Sacks who just shrugged as well. Tim continued to eat in awkward silence. They both waited until Tim had finished. He was already starting to look better, though. Drinking and eating had genuinely done something for him. Finally, Tim pushed back the tray. It was mostly empty.

"Feeling better?" Sacks asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, I know that if I ask if you want to do any more today, the answer will be no, but do you think that you _can_ do anything more today?"

Tim took a breath and let it out slowly. Tony could see the return of the same anxiety that plagued every step. How in the world had Tim survived for a year feeling like this?

"I don't know," Tim said. "I really don't know."

"Are you willing to give it a try?"

Another slow, deep breath.

"And do...what?"

"See what you can find out about Archer."

"But... if it was... if it was him... why beat me up? Why be so mad about..."

Tim was starting to get worked up again, and Tony figured that this really wasn't the best place for him to have a meltdown. Well, maybe in terms of his physical care, it would be, but not for them keeping this stuff secret. Besides, the last thing Tim needed so soon after his collapse was to get out of control again.

"To throw everyone else off the trail," Sacks said. "And maybe he was trying to find out what you really knew."

"So... if I had said... If... back then, if..."

"I don't know," Tony said. "There's no way to know how things would have turned out."

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head. Suddenly, Sacks leaned forward and took Tim by the shoulders.

"Keep your eyes open if you can, Professor. When you close them, it's easier to forget where you are."

Tim's eyes opened, but Tony could see Tim was also near tears and probably didn't want to cry in front of them. Actually, Tony didn't want him to cry in front of them, either. Grown men crying just was weird.

"Take a deep breath and let it out slowly," Sacks said. "Don't think about anything else if you don't think you can. Just think about your breathing. You can control that. Breathe in and out and don't think about anything else. Just breathing. In and out, slowly."

Tony watched, impressed in spite of himself that Sacks could be so calming and soothing when Tony normally found him so aggravating. He was just talking and letting Tim relax a little bit. Tony couldn't remember how he had known that Sacks had some psychology training, but he did know it and seeing it being put to work here was interesting.

After a few minutes, Tim was much calmer.

"Sorry if I pushed you too hard, Professor," Sacks said.

Tim shook his head.

"You could have nudged me with a single finger and I would have freaked out. Everything is too hard."

Tony handed Tim the cup of water and Tim took a long drink and then another deep breath. They just sat there in silence again for a little while and then a nurse came in and took Tim's pulse, blood pressure, temperature, all the usual things.

"Your numbers are looking much better, Mr. McGee. You'll save yourself a lot of grief and repeat visits if you keep yourself well-fed and watered."

"Watered?" Tony repeated. "Sounds like he's a plant."

The nurse grinned. "Well, we need water just like plants do. Fed and hydrated? Would that be better?"

"Sounds less plant-like," Tony said.

"Glad I could help. Are you feeling better, Mr. McGee?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good. I'll try to get a doctor in to discharge you and you'll be released, but take it easy for the rest of the day and don't skip any meals," she said, waggling her finger in Tim's face.

"Yes, ma'am."

The nurse smiled and then left. They waited for another half an hour before a doctor came in and checked Tim over once more and then discharged him, again with strict instructions to take it easy for the rest of the day and to eat and drink as needed.

Then, it was back to Tim's apartment, five hours after leaving it. It was now early afternoon. They walked into Tim's apartment and Tim flopped down on his couch and sighed as he stared at the ceiling.

"You want me to do more today, don't you," he said. "You want me to find out about that detective."

"If you think you can," Sacks said. "If you can't, then, we'll wait until tomorrow. If you can, though..."

Tony saw that Tim _wanted_ the answer to be no but that he wasn't sure if it really was.

It was just a matter of waiting to see what he'd choose to say.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"I can try," Tim said and sighed. "I can try."

"Are you sure?" Sacks asked.

"Yeah."

Tim sighed again and pushed himself to his feet. He walked over to the computer again and sat down on a stool.

"Do you want me to hack into the police department or do you want me to use your login information?" Tim asked.

"Oh...I don't know," Tony said. "Is one better than the other?"

Tim managed a weak smile. "John wasn't sure about that, either. If I hack in, that's illegal and I might be found out or they might just know that _someone_ was in there which would probably make them suspicious. If I use your login, if someone sees, it'll be you they see and you work there. So they'll know that _you_ are looking around but they might or might not think more about it."

"Ah."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well?" Tim asked.

Tony thought about it, but not for more than a few seconds. Tim had already paid enough of a price for all this. He wasn't about to add to it by making Tim worry about someone figuring out he was the hacker.

"Let's keep this simple. You can log in as me and do whatever you need to do."

"Okay."

There was no gratitude expressed, but that was fine. Tim was having a rough day and he was now preparing to do something he didn't really want to do. He wrote down his username and password and handed it to Tim who took it and then stared at the monitor for a few seconds. Another deep breath and he got onto the BPD employee login page. Then, he was in the system and working without speaking. Tony felt a bit of an ache in his arm again. This was longer than he'd planned on being here (not having expected Tim's collapse), but he wasn't going to leave while Tim was working. Instead, he walked over to a chair and sat down so he could rest his arm. Even the sling couldn't take all the pressure off and the wound was still fairly recent.

"You all right?" Sacks asked.

"Yeah. Arm just is a bit tired and needs a rest."

"Tired?"

"Yeah," Tony said, not willing to admit to pain.

Sacks was really good at the skeptical eyebrow raise. Tony just ignored it and tried to relax his arm so that the injured muscle wasn't protesting the strain. Sacks looked over at Tim who seemed to be back in his working zone and then walked over to sit in front of Tony.

"You're not doing anyone any favors by pushing yourself too hard," he said.

Tony glanced over at Tim and then back. He was surprised anew at Sacks being so concerned for him.

"What's with all the concern, Sacks?" he asked. "You're acting positively paternal about this. It's not that serious and I'm resting it right now."

"You're one of those people who thinks that if you pretend it's nothing, it really is nothing, and all that does is end up hurting you. You want me to think you're not an idiot? Don't act like one."

Then, Sacks got up and walked over to where Tim was working, although he didn't interrupt Tim at all. Tony sat there, a little flummoxed. Since when had Sacks cared one iota about whether Tony made smart choices or not? This really was more than a little surprising, but Sacks had genuinely seemed to care about whether or not Tony was overdoing it. It had happened before, too, but Tony was still surprised. So surprised that he just sat there...resting his arm which continued to pain him a little as he sat there, wishing he'd thought to bring along another pill just in case.

In fact, he stayed where he was as silence reigned in Tim's apartment. The only sound was the clicking of keys as Tim worked. Tony had no idea exactly what Tim was doing. He probably wouldn't have any idea even if he was standing there, staring at the monitor.

Then, suddenly, in the midst of the silence, there was a scraping sound as Tim abruptly pushed himself away from the counter, got up and walked over to the window.

"I can't do it anymore," he whispered.

Tony forced himself to stand up without grimacing.

"That's all right, Tim. It doesn't have to be done today."

Tim shook his head and put his hand on the window.

"That's not what I mean," he said, his voice still soft.

Tony looked at Sacks, wondering if he should be worried now.

"Then, what do you mean?" Sacks asked, looking cautious.

"I can't stay in this prison. I can't face this world I'm in." Tim suddenly turned around and pointed vigorously at the computer on the counter. "I never wanted this to be all my life was! Never! But it is. I know what you think of people like me. The geeks, the nerds, the ones who know exactly how computers work and can manipulate them as we want to. I know what you think! We're just about computers. That's all we are, but it isn't! It's not supposed to be. That's a tool, a tool I know how to use! We don't look at a carpenter and say that his whole life is defined by the fact that he can use a saw perfectly well! He's allowed to be a person outside of using a saw! Why can't we be that way?"

Tony had no idea what to make of this rant because it didn't seem to have anything to do with what was going on. He had no idea what to do about it. He had no idea how long it would go on or what would be the end result of it. All he knew was that he was hoping that just listening would be helpful because he had no idea what else he could do.

"Now, here I am, a year after all this happened and it took away everything in my life! I was happy, you know! It wasn't perfect. No one's life is perfect, but I was happy! I had a job that I loved. I like teaching and I think I'm pretty good at it. I was doing research which was just interesting whether it worked out or not. I had all the things that come along with a good job. I had friends. And now... what do I have after all this?" He turned back to the window and held out his hands to the view, although Tony suspected that he wasn't really seeing it. "This. This is what I have. A jail cell. Only, it's one I made for myself and then I lost the key."

Tim stopped speaking for a few seconds and Tony could hear the heavy breathing that indicated he was trying not to cry.

"...and I c-can't find it," he whispered.

Tony looked at Sacks, hesitated and then walked over and put his arm around Tim's shoulders. Tim tensed a little but didn't move away. He just stood there.

"You know... you could try picking the lock," Tony said.

Tim actually laughed, although it was still a little bit teary.

"I n-n-never did know h-how to do that," he whispered.

"Oh, I'm great at picking locks. I was a major troublemaker in school. I'll show you."

Tim took a breath and looked up, but not at Tony or Sacks. He still was staring out the window.

"Did you find anything?" Tony asked, after a moment of silence, judging that it might be okay to push just a little.

"Y-Yeah."

"What did you find?"

"N-No official schooling in computers," Tim said, still stammering as he tried to get control of his emotions again.

"How did you find that?" Sacks asked.

"I got his resume and... and then, I hacked into his school records."

"While we were sitting here, waiting?"

"Yeah."

"So...does that mean it couldn't have been him?" Tony asked.

"No. It just means he didn't take classes."

"Oh." Tony was a little disappointed. He had hoped that...

"But Allan Blaser did."

"Huh?"

Tim took a deep breath and visibly squared his shoulders. He turned to Tony and Sacks both, his eyes red, still shaking a little, but he seemed more certain now.

"Allan Blaser minored in computer science, and... and he's been taking classes in cybersecurity for a few years."

"He has?"

Tim nodded. "Through Loyola University, not Johns Hopkins. I would have seen him. That's my area."

"How long have Archer and Blaser known each other?" Sacks asked, looking at Tony.

"I don't know. I know that they shifted things around when they hired me so that Archer wasn't working with the new guy. He said he didn't want to deal with that after losing his partner. Clark and I are both relatively new at the district, although Clark was in BPD before, just transferred."

"They've worked the same number of years," Tim said, softly. "I don't know if that means they knew each other, though."

"Right."

Tony looked at Tim and then at Sacks.

"We've got Blaser following Tim on at least one occasion. We have Blaser knowing computers pretty well. Archer doesn't, but the username seems to link him to it."

"What we don't have is any real link to what Tim's found and what Benedict was looking for," Sacks said.

Tony sighed and then couldn't suppress the wince as he accidentally jarred his arm.

"Okay. That's enough for today," Sacks said, suddenly taking charge. It happened so quickly that Tony didn't even have time to protest. "Tim, there's going to be someone watching your building. Be careful about who you let into your apartment. I'll call and tell you who to watch for if you decide to go out."

"I won't," Tim whispered.

"Even so, you should know. And Tony, you're going back home."

Tony wanted to protest, but he couldn't think of any way to do it that wouldn't sound like a little kid protesting being told to go to his room. Besides, his arm was definitely hurting.

"And what about you, Agent Sacks?" Tony asked, letting a little bit of irritation into his tone.

Sacks looked at him.

"I'm going to take this to my superiors now."

"Wait, just a minute!" Tony said.

"I told you that I'd keep it quiet until I decided it needed to be shared. It needs to be shared. Not with BPD but with the FBI. This is something that needs to be known so that the same thing doesn't happen to us that happened to Benedict. You can protest all day until the cows come home, but I'm right and you know I'm right. Keeping this a secret any longer is going to do no one any favors except the guilty party. It's not doing Tim any favors. It's not doing us any favors. Once they figure out that something is going on, we'll need protection. Best to have it in place already. That's the way it is, DiNozzo. Deal with it." Then, Sacks deliberately turned away from him and toward Tim. "Do you need anything, Professor?"

Tim just shook his head.

"Okay. We'll be in contact tomorrow."

Tim nodded.

"Good. Thanks for what you did today. I know it was more than you wanted to do. Don't feel like you have to push yourself further to get more done than you have already."

Tim nodded and then looked at Tony. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They left the apartment, hearing Tim turning all the locks as soon as the door was closed. Then, they left the building and got into Sacks' car. At first, the ride was silent.

"Until the cows come home?" Tony said after a bit. "Really?"

"You got my point."

Tony shook his head.

"What do you think is going to come of making this official?"

"More people will know," Sacks said.

"And?"

"And Tim won't be feeling like he has to keep a secret. The bad guys will be on the defensive instead of the offensive. A smuggling ring will get a real investigation that might deal a definite blow, especially if there are cops in on it."

"What if someone in the FBI is in on it, too?"

"I'll only be telling my immediate superior."

"And if he is?"

"Oh, come on," Sacks said. "Do you honestly think that it goes that high? Really? Not even I am suggesting corruption running through the ranks of the BPD."

"I don't, but do you really want to risk it?"

"Do you really want to risk what might happen if we keep hiding what we're doing?"

"What more risk is there?"

Sacks looked over him.

"At the least, that it'll be too much for Professor McGee to handle and he'll really fall apart."

"And what's the most?"

"One or more of us ends up dead," Sacks said, bluntly. "If we're right about Archer, then, he was willing to kill someone he'd worked with for years. What chance do you think we'd have that he'd hold back now? Once someone steps over the line like that, it's not easy to go back and most don't."

"You know many people like that?" Tony asked, raising his own eyebrow.

Sacks sighed irritably. "Isn't one enough?"

"Sure. But do you?"

Another irritable sigh and Sacks didn't answer.

Silence fell again, but this time Tony's mind went back to Tim's rant.

"Why do you think that Tim decided to rant about the way people think about computer geeks right now?"

Sacks shrugged. "No idea, but if he's feeling as trapped as he said, that's probably just another bar in his prison. Maybe it's a good thing that he felt safe enough with us that he could express it."

"Maybe," Tony said, doubtfully. "I don't know that we really did anything to help him with that."

"I don't know that we can, unless you can convince him to talk to someone."

"I haven't yet."

"You're annoying and persuasive. Keep it up. Maybe it'll work."

"Thanks...I think."

Sacks pulled over in front of Tony's building.

"Just don't be stupid. It's unnecessary."

"I'll work on that," Tony said, unsure if he felt complimented or insulted.

Then, he got out of his car and walked into the building, keeping his eyes peeled for someone watching him or following him, even just up to his apartment. Once he got inside, he sat down on his couch, only barely remembering to keep from flopping down as he usually would. He was tired out and in pain. He sat for a few minutes, thinking about everything that they had learned and everything that had happened. Tim really was in a bad way and Tony wished that they could just let him be out of it, but they couldn't.

Finally, he shook his head and went in search of his leftovers so that he could take another pill.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Tim turned all of his locks as soon as Tony and Sacks were out of the apartment. Then, he walked over to his couch and sat down, feeling tired and worn and unhappy. With a sigh he looked up at the ceiling and then closed his eyes and shook his head.

He was actually a little embarrassed by how he had acted, by his passing out requiring a trip to the hospital, by his obvious instability. It was all embarrassing and unpleasant. He hated it. He hated that this was his life. Part of him wanted to run out into the street and just dare someone to come after him. He was so sick of everything.

But most of him was too afraid to do that, just in case someone took him up on the challenge.

His phone rang and he sighed again and looked at the display. It was Lewis again. So he answered.

"Hey, Lewis," he said, knowing he sounded miserable.

"_Tim, what's going on?"_

"I can't tell you."

"_Why not? You're really worrying me and you know I hate admitting that."_

"I just can't, okay?" Tim said, feeling more tired than irritated.

"_I'm coming over and you'd better let me up there when I come."_

"Lewis..."

"_No, Tim. And if you don't tell me right now, I'm bringing you dinner, too. Janice made tons yesterday, hoping that you'd come over."_

"I'm not leaving."

"_Fine. I'm still bringing you something."_

Tim thought about protesting, but he had to admit that Janice was a really good cook and he'd promised to eat well to make up for the _not_ eating he'd done.

"Okay."

"_Good. I'll be over in a few minutes."_

"Okay."

Tim hung up, knowing that Lewis wouldn't be satisfied with bringing him dinner. He'd want to get at what was bugging his friend so much. He sat where he was without moving until, after a while, there was a tone indicating someone was buzzing to come in. Praying it was Lewis, Tim answered.

"Hello?"

"_Tim, it's Lewis. You going to let me in?"_

"Yeah. Come on up."

He sat there, waiting for Lewis to get to the door until he heard a knock. Ever cautious, Tim checked through the peephole and saw Lewis standing there with multiple bags. It actually looked like Lewis had gone shopping for him. ...or rather, that Janice had. Tim wanted to resent it, but he couldn't. He just opened the door and let Lewis come in.

"I come bearing gifts," Lewis announced, holding the bags up for inspection.

"I can see that. I'll pay you back for the groceries," Tim said.

"No way. Gifts, Tim. Gifts! You can't pay back for gifts."

Lewis carried the bags to the kitchen and, although he said nothing, Tim knew he noticed the computer set up on the counter. However, he just started putting things away.

"Lewis, I can..."

"Tim, knock it off. I'm being nice to you. You're my friend. Stop acting like you can't have help when you need it. You _know_ you need it. Accept it."

Tim sat down on a stool, _not_ in front of the computer, and watched as Lewis put food in the fridge, in the cupboards. He could also smell the delicious aromas coming from one of the other bags. He could smell Janice's curry and he knew it would be excellent. He was grateful for that much.

Lewis didn't say anything until he finished putting things away. Then, he opened the last bag and pulled out a container filled with rice and another one with chicken curry. He also pulled out some tinfoil and unwrapped some naan.

"Janice told me to eat with you, but to eat light so you had some leftovers since she knows how much you like this."

Tim laughed a little.

"Thank her for me."

"I will."

Then, suddenly, Tim had an overwhelming urge to start crying. He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of the feeling. There was a hand on his shoulder.

"Tim, please, say something. Talk to me. What's going on? Does it have to do with why you have yet another computer now sitting on your counter?"

"I... I can't do this anymore," Tim whispered. It was much like he'd said earlier. But the contrast between his miserable life and Lewis' life was never more apparent than at this moment. Lewis was free to come and go as he pleased. He was happy in his life. Secure. Safe. And all without worrying about it.

"Can't do what?"

"Live like this. I can't. I just can't."

"Tim, you're starting to scare me. What do you mean?"

If he kept talking, Tim knew he'd genuinely start crying. He'd managed to resist that all day long, in spite of how awful he felt, how bad everything seemed to be, but with Lewis... Lewis was his friend. He had known Tim for years. He was Tim's closest friend and one of the few that had stuck with him through this last year.

But he didn't want to cry.

"M-My life just... It just sucks right now."

The hand on his shoulder became a one-armed hug.

"Tim, if you'd just let me help you. Or let _anyone_ help you. It wouldn't have to suck so much."

"Not yet. I can't yet. I wish I could."

"Why not? What's stopping you?"

Tim opened his eyes and looked at Lewis.

"I can't... let anyone else get hurt because of me."

"Tim, that cop... It wasn't your fault, no matter what anyone else said, no matter what that scummy cop did to you."

Tim shook his head. Lewis had no way of knowing.

"Well... what will make it possible, then?"

"They're trying to find out who did it," Tim said, not wanting to reveal that to his friend but unable to hide it when he felt so shaky as it was.

"Who?"

"A cop. They need my help."

"Why?"

"Because. Lewis... I'm trying to help them. I _want_ to, but every time I think about it..."

"Tim, I'm sure they could do it without you."

"No, they can't. I _have_ to help."

"Then... is there anything _I_ can do? To make it easier for you?"

Tim shook his head, but then, he tried to smile even as he was choking back the tears that were still threatening to fall.

"...but Janice's curry will help."

Lewis laughed, but he still looked concerned.

"Well, then, I'll dish that up and help you eat it. ...and I won't even eat it all."

"Thanks."

"You sit down at your table and I'll dish it up."

"I can help."

"Nope. I'm doing it. That's what I can do, so that's what I'm doing."

Tim walked over to his little table and sat down, watching while Lewis did what he could, i.e. dished up the curry and brought it over to Tim, along with some water.

"I know you like having some wine with dinner, but I think you don't need to have anything playing with your mind tonight."

"You're probably right."

Finally, Tim started to eat. It was delicious as always and comforting enough that he began to calm down. Curry could be hot and spicy, but Janice had always preferred flavor over heat. She had learned to make her own curry powder and loved to experiment with different spice combinations, preferring those warm spices to the hot ones.

For his part, Lewis let Tim eat in silence. By the time they both finished, Tim was feeling much better than he had. The lead weight in his stomach was still there, but it wasn't as heavy as it had been all day and the previous night.

"Tim, do you want to stay at our place for a few days? You know we only have that old futon on a frame in the office, but at least you wouldn't be alone."

Tim shook his head.

"No. Thanks, though, Lewis. Really."

"You call me if you need something, even if it's just company, okay? I mean it."

"Okay. Thanks." Tim said that, and he meant it, but he knew he wouldn't call on Lewis until he knew this was over.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, a little."

"And you can't tell me _anything_?"

"No."

Lewis sighed. "Okay. When you _can_, you will. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then. I'll go and report to Janice that I left you enough for at least two more meals."

Tim smiled. "She can call and verify if she wants to," he said.

"I'll tell her that, too."

Tim walked with Lewis over to the door, but then, suddenly, Lewis stopped and took him by the shoulders, forcing Tim to look him in the eye.

"Tim, you can get through this. Whatever it is, you're strong enough to do it, okay? Heck, you managed to impress your tenure committee before they were even your tenure committee. You can do it."

"Thanks, Lewis," Tim said.

He let Lewis leave and then locked the door again.

The sooner all this was over, the better.

He looked over at his computer again. Sacks had said they needed something that would definitely connect Archer to the smuggling Benedict had found. Fine.

"I'll find it," he whispered to himself.

If that's what it would take to get out of his prison.

Pick the lock, indeed.

Tony had no idea.

Tim had mostly managed to avoid hacking thus far. He had managed to avoid letting anyone in on just how good he was at hacking. He hadn't ever let Benedict know. He had brushed off Tony's questions about that, too. In fact, there was a reason why he had chosen to specialize in cryptology and cryptosecurity. At least initially. When one's job is to make files more secure, one got to do everything one could to prove how _un_secure they are. Tim had always volunteered to be the guy breaking in. He always got a major adrenaline rush when he succeeded. No one but the professor had ever managed to stop him, even as a freshman in college. Once he'd got into grad school, he'd been asked to come into undergraduate classes and demonstrate how difficult it could be to keep determined hackers out. No one really knew how good he was because nothing he'd done had ever been made official. He had done more than one "guest lecture" in grad school in which all he'd done was show his hacking skills. If a professor had a student who was getting just a little too full of himself, Tim was asked to come in and break through whatever security the student had set up. He always got through. Every time.

Since getting his job in Baltimore, Tim hadn't done that. He hadn't done much hacking at all except in a few isolated cases, and those hadn't been true hacking. Again, it had been at the behest of someone at the school.

But now, now, he was so sick and tired (literally and figuratively) that he didn't care about the rules anymore. He just wanted this to be over. Let the FBI threaten to arrest him, let the BPD come after him. Tim didn't care. He was going to finish this and to do that, he needed to throw away any inhibition, anything that would keep him from doing whatever it took to get what he needed.

Now, determined, Tim walked back to his computer. It was a desperate determination, but it was determination. He had to set aside everything that scared him. He glanced over at his windows. Close the curtains, get himself as safe as he could possibly be. He looked at his door. Then, he moved one of his bookshelves in front of it. It would be hard to move it back, but no one should be coming in here without first getting buzzed in, so he'd have time to move it if necessary.

Then, he walked back to his computer, sat down and started to work.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

His phone started ringing, bringing Tony out of a blissful, deep sleep. He groaned and rolled over to answer. He didn't look at the display.

"Come on. Really? Can't I have one day of sleeping in?" he mumbled into the phone, thinking it must be Sacks calling.

"_Tony?"_

Tony woke up a bit more. "Oh, Clark. What are you calling so early for?"

"_Early? It's nearly eight a.m. Are you all right?"_

"Clark, I'm recovering from an injury. I'm taking pain meds. They knock me out. I think I'm entitled to sleep in if I so choose."

"_Sorry. Who did you think was calling you?"_

Tony suppressed a yawn and sat up.

"Just someone like you who seems willing to forget that I'm wounded."

"_If it makes you feel any better, I really was calling to see how you were doing. It's weird not having you around to make your sometimes amusing comments."_

"Only sometimes?"

"_Yep."_

"It's getting better. Doc says I shouldn't plan on going back to work for at least a week, probably more like ten days. I'm hoping to wear him down," Tony said, lying a little because he knew that was what Clark would expect him to say.

"_Archer said you weren't looking too bad yesterday when he came by."_

"Actually, it was weird that he showed up. Did he say _why_ he was checking on me?"

"_You think it's weird for one of your coworkers to check up on you after a serious injury?"_

"No. I think it's weird for _Archer_ to be checking on me. I wouldn't have felt that it was weird for you or Germaine, even. I mean, I don't really even like the guy and the feeling has seemed to be mostly mutual up to now."

"_Maybe he was just worrying about what happened with Benedict."_

"Yeah. Maybe."

"_Tony, I think all this stuff with Benedict is going to your head. It was a year ago."_

Then, there was a muffled conversation.

"What's going on, Clark?" Tony asked.

"_Just a sec."_

Then, more muffled conversation. Tony waited, getting a little worried. After a minute or two, Clark was back.

"_Sorry about that, Tony. Archer was walking by and heard me say Benedict's name. He was a little upset. I was trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. So...maybe I was wrong and it's not so far in the past for him, either."_

"What did you say?"

"_I just told him that you'd been curious about the case because you'd never known the exact situation when you got hired."_

Tony wasn't sure whether to be worried or not. Archer was the one person he didn't _want_ knowing he was thinking about the case. If he wasn't already suspicious, that might be just a random moment of curiosity. But if he was...

"_Sorry, Tony. I know you were trying not to tread on any toes. I think I might have smoothed things over, and since you're not back for a few days, it'll probably blow over by then."_

"Yeah. Thanks, Clark," Tony said, never feeling less grateful, although he knew that Clark wasn't trying to be a problem. He was obviously oblivious to what might be going on.

"_Anyway, I've got to get back to work. I'm just going through old case files while you're gone, so I'll be glad when you're back for more than one reason."_

"Ha. I'm sure. Well, I'm going to go back to being lazy."

"_You deserve it, Tony. I'm sorry I woke you up."_

"No problem. I don't want to be _too_ lazy."

"_Take care. Bye."_

"Bye."

Tony hung up and wondered if this was a big problem or if he was just _making_ it a big problem.

Well, as much as he would like to go back to sleep, he knew there was no way he'd relax enough to actually sleep now. He decided he might as well get up and get ready for the day and then call Sacks to see what had come of his deciding to report what Tim had already said and done.

Even so, he couldn't get the fact that Archer now knew for certain that he was thinking about the Benedict case out of his mind. And it emphasized anew how bad Tim's situation was. Tony wasn't dealing with what was likely at least akin to PTSD from being beaten and from seeing someone he knew murdered, and he was worrying about what might happen. Tim _knew_ he had been followed. He _knew_ that the killer was still at large and might find out about him. He _knew_ all that could happen if the killer wasn't caught. And then, he had to deal with all that on top of his trauma from the year before. And who knew what other normal life stresses he might have as well? No wonder he was falling apart.

His preoccupation carried him through his routine of preparing for the day and then, he was sitting on his couch deciding whether to call Sacks or wait for Sacks to call him...as he surely would.

_When it's most inconvenient,_ Tony thought to himself.

But then, as he sat on the couch, he felt drowsy again and he lay his head back and began to doze.

Just as he was completely relaxed, his phone rang and made him jump. He answered quickly.

"_DiNozzo, you up?"_

"Yes. I knew it had to be you, Sacks. I had just managed to relax."

"_Don't start. Are you ready?"_

"For what?"

"_To talk the professor into going back to the FBI to make a full report and work with the people there to see what we can find."_

"He's not going to be happy about leaving."

"_I know. That's why you're going to persuade him to leave."_

"What makes you think he'll listen to me? We've known each other for a few weeks. We're not bosom buddies."

"_He's listened to you before."_

"He's listened to you, too."

"_I'll be at your place in about ten minutes."_

"Okay. I'm ready. Watch for Archer and Blaser."

"_Will do."_

Sacks hung up. Tony decided to make sure he was ready for a long day this time. He got another pill to take with him. He also decided to take his gun with him this time. If they were going to be doing some official stuff, he'd be more official.

His phone rang nine minutes later. Tony grimaced. Sacks should not be that good at gauging his time.

"What?" he asked.

"_Blaser is outside your place. I'm not sure I want to risk him seeing me in the area. What do you want to do?"_

"Well, I don't want him knowing it's your car I'm getting into and if he's actually out there watching, I'm guessing he knows who to look for. I'll call for a taxi. If you feel bad, you can pay me for it."

"_Ha. What makes you think I feel bad?"_

"Because you already offered to give me a ride once."

"_Pay for your own taxi. You want to just meet up at his place, then?"_

"Yeah, sure."

"_See you there. Don't be late."_

Sacks hung up again. Tony sat back and shook his head. Either Clark had really messed things up or Archer and Blaser were watching them more closely than he had thought they would be this early in the game.

...or was it early in the game at all? The case was a year old. If Archer really was aiding smugglers, had he ever actually stopped doing it? If not, then, he might have always been on his guard, at least to some degree. How recently had that username been used? Why had he never asked the before?

Quickly, Tony called for a cab and then waited for the notification that it had arrived. Once he got that, he went downstairs and stepped out onto the sidewalk, casually looking around as he played up fumbling with his sunglasses a little bit. He spotted Blaser just down the street but didn't do more than scan the area as he would any time he left his building. He saw no sign of Archer and so he simply got into his taxi and sent it over to Tim's building. He glanced out the back a couple of times but he couldn't see any sign of a tail.

"You got problems, mister?" the driver asked.

Tony smiled. "Don't we all?"

"Not what I meant."

"You mean the kind that could rebound on you?"

"Exactly."

"Nope. As long as you're not trying to run up your meter by taking a roundabout way to my destination."

"I never do that. If I got caught, I'd lose my job."

"I'm glad that you're not pretending there's no temptation."

"Doesn't matter what your business is. There's always the wrong thing to do," the driver said. "It's just a matter of whether or not you got the morals to stay on the right side."

Thinking of Archer, Tony nodded.

"Point taken."

"This is it up on the left, right?" the driver said after a couple of minutes.

"It is." He quickly paid and got out, only to see Sacks walking down the sidewalk himself.

"How long have you been here?" he asked Sacks.

"Not long. Had to park without being obvious about it."

"Right. Well, let's see if he'll let us in today."

They walked inside and buzzed Tim's apartment.

Then, they waited.

There was no answer.

"Try again," Sacks said.

Tony did.

They waited.

"_Yes?"_

"It's Tony and Ron. Can we come up?"

"_Yeah."_

Then, they were buzzed in.

"What do you think?" Ron asked. "Better or worse than he was before?"

"Hopefully, better. But I really have no idea."

They rode up on the elevator and walked to Tim's apartment door and then knocked. They heard the locks being turned and Tim opened the door...looking a little flushed actually.

"You all right?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Tim said, sounding a little breathless.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

"Yeah." He looked embarrassed. "The bookshelf was heavy."

"Huh?" Tony looked over and saw one of Tim's bookshelves looking more than a little askew. "Why were you moving your bookshelf?"

"Because I'd put it in front of the door and I had to move it to let you in."

"Uh..."

Tim actually came close to rolling his eyes.

"You already know that I'm paranoid. You don't have to act like it's any big surprise."

He stepped behind them, closed the door and turned all the locks.

"What are you here for today?"

"To see if we can convince you to come to the FBI again," Tony said.

Tim looked wary.

"Why?"

"Because I reported what's going on to my superior yesterday and he's ready to make this all official, but we need to have what you have," Sacks said.

"Oh." Tim hesitated.

"What?" Tony asked.

More hesitation.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

"Well, I got more."

"More what?"

"You said you needed something to link Archer to the smuggling, that without that, it was just circumstantial. You said that we didn't have anything like that. I've been up all night working on it."

"Working on it... how?"

"I've been hacking," Tim said bluntly.

"What have you been hacking?" Tony asked.

"What haven't I been hacking is a better question," Tim said, not in a boastful way. While he wasn't stammering, there was an edge of desperation in everything he was saying. He had been pushed to do something more. Why he had, Tony didn't know, but he had.

"Just how good _are_ you?" Sacks asked.

"I've hacked everything from the corner grocery store to the CIA," Tim said. Again, not boasting. Stating facts with that same desperate edge. "Whatever it takes. I can't live like this anymore. I can't stand being like this. I need to get away from it and I can't if I don't do something. I don't care if the FBI decides to prosecute me. I don't care if I go to prison. That wouldn't be any worse than the prison I've been living in." The edge got a little sharper.

"Are you willing to explain everything you've found?" Sacks asked.

"I don't want to leave here."

"I know that, but _will_ you? We need an official record."

"At the FBI?" Tim asked, looking at Tony.

"Yeah. No BPD at all...well, except for me," Tony said, trying to smile.

Tim didn't smile. Tony got the feeling that he was only barely holding himself together and that he couldn't do anything so simple as smile.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yeah. If I set food by myself when I start this kind of work, I'll eat it even if I don't notice. The food is gone. I ate."

"Then, will you come with us?" Tony asked.

Another hesitation.

"We'll bring you right back here after if that's what you want," Tony said. "We'll be right there, but we need your help."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay. Just a minute."

He walked back to his computer and started typing.

"Will he make it?" Sacks murmured.

"He's made it this far."

"Yeah. How much further?"

"Don't know."

Then, Tim turned away from the computer with two flash drives on lanyards. He walked over and held them out.

"This is a copy of a lot of the stuff I have. Last time, only John and I knew anything about all this and only I knew that there was something more to find. This time, it's all three of us. I'll still show what I did and explain what I found, but you'll have at least the bare bones."

Tony glanced at Sacks and then took the flash drive. He slipped it into his pocket and Sacks did the same.

"Ready to go?" Sacks asked.

"No...but I will."

Tim took a breath and let it out in a whoosh. Then, he walked with them to the door and left the building. They walked to Sacks car and Tony could see the hypervigilance that explained everything about why Tim didn't want to leave his apartment. He felt bad about doing this when he had seen Tim before and, while he hadn't been a sparkling personality, he hadn't been freaked out like this.

_This is going to make it better. When we have Archer out of the way, Tim will be better than he is._

They got into Sacks' car and Tim slumped down in the back seat.

"It'll take about half an hour to get there," Sacks said.

"You going to take the Beltway?"

"I was thinking of cutting through Leakin Park. We shouldn't have any traffic jams there, even if we have to drive more slowly."

Tony nodded.

"You okay with that, Professor?"

"Whatever you think," Tim said, softly.

"Okay. DiNozzo?"

"At this time of day, the Beltway might save us time or it might add a lot of time onto it. I'm okay with whatever."

"Yeah, right."

Sacks put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic. And for the first couple of miles, it was fine, but as soon as they were in the midst of Leakin Park, with nothing but trees on either side of them, Tony noticed Sacks looking in the rearview mirror more than he should.

"What's going on?" he asked very softly, trying not to let Tim hear.

"Someone's following us. I don't know if they're going to move in or not, but..."

Then, suddenly, a car coming toward them swerved into their lane, clearly intending to hit them. Instantly, Sacks swerved the other direction.

The car started to spin out.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Tim heard them talking and his heart was in his throat as the car began to swerve. One small part of his brain was really impressed that Sacks had managed to keep the car from flipping or running into something. Somehow, Sacks managed to maneuver the car away from the head-on collision and onto a small unpaved road, still only marginally in control, but he was slowing down as well. Finally, the car ran abruptly into a graffitied freight container in a little clearing. Tim was thrown hard against the door and showered with glass as the windowed shattered in the impact. The car stopped, wedged against the container.

"Everyone alive?" Sacks asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, sounding pained.

"Professor?"

Tim made a sound that was almost a yes.

"Good. Out of the car," Sacks ordered. "We need to get to a place where we can defend ourselves. We're sitting ducks in here."

Tim fumbled with his seatbelt but managed to get it off and then crawl to the door and get out. Sacks grabbed him and shoved him roughly behind the container, Tony following right behind.

And then the bullets started flying. They were partially protected from the shots by Sacks' wrecked car and partially by the side of the train car. But there were five people trying to get them. Tim sank to the ground, his mind half in that tiny space a year ago, knowing that he was about to die, watching as Benedict was shot to death in that alley. He started to panic, his breath loud and uneven. He was almost whimpering with fear.

"It's all right, Tim. It'll be okay," Tony said.

Tim looked up, but Tony was already refocused on firing back at their attackers.

"Professor, you a good shot?" Sacks asked.

Tim just shook his head mutely. He'd never fired a gun in his life.

Sacks pulled a phone out of his pocket, pressed one button and tossed it to Tim who very nearly dropped it.

"I called the FBI. Tell them where we are and that we need backup. Now."

Then, Sacks fired back again, the gunfire pulling another whimper out of Tim's mouth. Sacks looked down at him.

"I know you're scared, Tim, but this is something you _can_ do. Just tell them where we are and that we need backup. That will do more than anything else you could to keep us alive. You can do this."

Tim nodded and lifted the phone to his ear, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus only on the phone and nothing else.

"_Sacks, I'm busy...as you should be, too. What do you want?"_

"They're trying to kill us," Tim whispered into the phone. "Help."

"_Who is this?"_

"Please. Help us. In Leakin Park. They're shooting at us!"

"_Is Ron there?"_

"Y-Yes."

"_We'll be there in just a few minutes. How many are there?"_

Tim was swiftly losing his battle for coherence. Sacks and Tony suddenly ducked down as two bullets shattered the windshield. Tim was embarrassed that he was so unable to think straight.

"I-I... I don't know. Five, I think."

"Get backup here now!" Sacks shouted over his shoulder. "Stop wasting time!"

"_We hear you. It's on the way. We got GPS to pinpoint your location."_

Then, there was another shot and a small explosion as one of the tires blew. Tim was already on shaky ground and that startled him enough that he dropped the phone. He didn't bother to pick it up. He just sat there, trying not to get killed or completely melt down in panic.

"I can't reload," Tony said. "Stupid sling."

"You're not hitting anything anyway," Sacks muttered.

"Neither are you."

Sacks sighed and quickly switched weapons and then reloaded Tony's and started firing again. Tim felt terrified and useless. And there was this feeling that their current situation was his fault, too. Then, suddenly, he looked to the side and saw another person. He'd managed to circle around and was planning on taking them out from behind.

He saw it all happening as if in slow motion, but at the same time, so quickly that he couldn't think of anything to do. There was no time to say anything, no time to prevent it.

But he _could_ do something.

He could stand up and stop them from getting shot in the back. He could do that. He had no doubt that the gunshot would alert them to the danger, even if he had no way of forcing himself to speak right at the moment.

The thoughts ran through his head at the speed of light and Tim leapt to his feet in an instant.

"No!" he shouted.

He got between Tony and the man firing at the exact instant the man pulled the trigger.

He didn't have time to close his eyes even.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's shout surprised Tony, but not nearly as much as Tim suddenly reeling back against him did.

He spun around as a shot from behind registered on his consciousness and he saw Tim slump to the ground and a man taking aim to fire again.

Tony didn't think any more than that. He fired back and actually hit the guy. It was a little bit of a surprise since Tony knew he wasn't nearly as good with his non-dominant hand. Still, he had trained some with his left and the man was close enough. He hit.

"Tim!" Tony said.

Tim was lying on the ground, unmoving. What in the world had happened? Why was the guy aiming at the one on the ground instead of the two with weapons? Sure, they probably needed to take Tim out as well, but...

The sound of sirens signaled approaching deliverance. They just had to hold out for a few more seconds and the cavalry would arrive.

But Tim still wasn't moving.

"Ron, I think Tim got hit."

"Hold on."

They couldn't safely stand down until the people attacking them were apprehended. Otherwise, there was little to keep them from rushing in and taking the two of them out quickly.

Then, the firing stopped. It stopped so suddenly that Tony wasn't sure he trusted it. The FBI wasn't there yet. Why weren't they still attacking? Sacks was clearly feeling the same. He didn't move from his defensive position.

"Check him," Sacks said, softly. "I'm watching."

Tony knelt down and turned Tim over. There was a spreading bloodstain on his side. Who knew how serious it might be at the moment? Tim was clearly unconscious, but that could be just from the stress of the situation pushing him over the edge.

If Tony was honest, that's what he hoped it was. He awkwardly pulled up Tim's shirt and saw the wound, but there was too much blood to discern how serious it was. He started putting pressure on the wound, hoping against hope that there was no major damage.

"Sacks, where are they?" came an unfamiliar voice.

Sacks straightened and faced the FBI agents running into the clearing.

"They must have run when they heard you coming. Thanks. I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one."

"Did you get a look at them?"

"No, but we need an ambulance," Sacks said, kneeling back down by Tim. "How bad is it?"

"Don't know. He's out, but..."

"Who knows why," Sacks finished. "Move. I can use both hands."

Tony was reluctant, but he knew Sacks was right and why make things worse by insisting on doing something he couldn't really do well.

Tim's face was pale and he wasn't moving, almost at all that Tony could see.

"He's alive, right?"

"Yeah. Pulse is weak but it's there, and he's breathing. I don't hear anything to say that the bullet hit his lung."

"Good."

"Ambulance should be here in a couple of minutes, tops."

"Good." Sacks said.

Suddenly, Tim regained consciousness, but he wasn't really all there. He was panicked and the fact that he was currently lying on the ground outside probably wasn't helping him think that he was safe.

"Whoa! Tim, calm down!"

"S-S-Stop... and... firing at... Can't..."

Tony leaned in, while Sacks was trying to keep Tim still.

"Tim, listen. It's okay. We're safe now."

Then, it was obvious that the pain pushed its way in through Tim's panic. He groaned and tried to move away from the pressure on his wound.

"Tim, stop moving!" Sacks ordered.

Tony pushed one of Tim's shoulders onto the ground which forced Tim onto his back.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

Tim's eyes, filled with tears of pain, finally saw him.

"Can you hear me?"

He nodded.

"We're okay. We're safe. You need to stay still and the ambulance will be here soon. At least, it better be."

"H-He... was sh-sh-shooting at y-y-you," Tim whispered around his panicked breaths.

"He missed," Tony said.

The siren heralding the approaching ambulance was more than welcome. Within seconds, the EMTs were on the scene. Tony and Sacks were pushed out of the way and Tim was loaded on an ambulance. Tony caught one of the EMTs.

"Which hospital?" he asked. There were three or four close by.

"Johns Hopkins. They've had extra casualties at St. Agnes."

"Okay."

Then, the ambulance was pulling away and it was at that moment that what Tim had said really hit him. He looked at Sacks.

"He said the guy was shooting at me," Tony said.

"Yeah? Lots of people were shooting at us," Sacks said, bitterly. He walked over to the wrecked car and kicked one of the tires. Hard. "How did they find us so easily? I didn't see any sign of Blaser or Archer before we left. I didn't see any sign of Halligan, either. I was looking. I didn't choose the route we were going to take until we were on our way. How closely were they watching? How did they find us?"

"No. Ron, they weren't shooting at him," Tony said. "Tim said he was shooting at me, but he's the one who got shot. Tim... he took a bullet for me."

Sacks turned away from the car and looked at Tony.

"What?"

"Tim was in full panic mode. I could see it. I didn't think he'd manage to do anything at all, but he must have stood up... to take that bullet. He saved my life."

Tony walked over to the wrecked car himself and slumped against it, feeling the fading adrenaline, the ache from bruises he was sure to have from the impact, and the overwhelming knowledge that the guy he'd more or less written off as far as physical assistance was concerned had literally put himself between Tony and likely death. He hadn't been armed. Tony didn't know why he hadn't just warned him, but if he was really panicked, maybe he couldn't think like that. All he knew was that Tim had saved him.

More sirens startled him and Tony looked up toward the main road once more. Then, a fire lit in his brain.

"We need to get this to the FBI," he said. "We're going to take him down. Take him down and take him out if that's what we need to do. There is no way that Archer is getting away with this for one more day."

Sacks put out his hand to stop Tony.

"What if we can't get enough to arrest him? That's why Tim was coming with us. He had information, but not everything."

"Are you saying we let him walk free when you and I both know that he was part of this?"

"Was he? He didn't have to be. Just because it was Archer helping out in the computer doesn't mean that he was here."

Tony pulled out his phone and called Clark.

"_You awake now, Tony?"_

"No time, Clark. Is Archer there? Right this moment?"

"_Tony, what's going–?"_

"Is he, Clark? I need to know," Tony said, tersely.

"_No. He left after you called this morning. I haven't seen him since then."_

"Blaser?"

"_He hasn't been in at all. Why? Tony..."_

"Someone just tried to kill me, Clark. Me and Agent Sacks and Tim McGee. And they almost succeeded."

"_What? ...you mean that call that just... Tony..."_

"Clark, I know you won't want to do this, but I need you to not tell anyone about this. Not yet. And if Archer or Blaser shows up, call me. Will you do that?"

"_Yeah. I can. Tony, are you okay?"_

"Yeah. But I'll tell you right now, Clark, that you guys all screwed up last year when you dismissed Tim McGee as a witness. He had a lot he could have told you if you hadn't written off Archer's behavior as justified. Think about that."

Then, Tony hung up and looked at Sacks.

"Can we go? Or do we have to hang around here while the FBI dithers?"

Sacks' eyebrow went up very eloquently.

"Tony, I get it. You feel guilty and you want to do something to fix it, but going off half-cocked isn't going to make anything better."

"Sacks, I'm trying to do this the right way. Could you not put this off until my meds wear off again? Because I can tell you that I'll be much less cooperative if I start hurting, too."

"How about, instead, I take you to the hospital so you can keep an eye on McGee. You keep your flash drive and I'll take mine to the FBI to start working on it. If they get enough for a warrant, I'll take you with me."

Tony wasn't quite as good with the eyebrow raise, but he was willing to try it anyway.

"I haven't lied to you, DiNozzo. Don't go looking at me like that."

"Fine. Let's go."

"All right. I'll see if Jackson will let me take his car since mine isn't going anywhere."

Tony followed, slightly reluctantly.

This wasn't over yet, and he didn't like that. For Tim's sake, this needed to be over.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

There was something going on just outside his hearing. He knew it was there. He knew it was serious, but he couldn't seem to make himself do anything about it.

It was so dark. He couldn't see anything. He wanted to get away from the darkness and into the light, but he was stuck where he was. He couldn't move.

There was a presence.

It was hovering close by.

He was frightened and tried to escape.

He couldn't move.

"Tim, it's okay."

Words. But they were meaningless. Garbled. Far away.

He still tried to escape.

"Tim, you're all right. Calm down. Open your eyes."

There was a light tap on his face.

And there was light around him. He couldn't see it but it was there.

"Tim, can you hear me?"

He wasn't sure about the voice. He might know it. But he might not.

"Tim. Open your eyes."

He tried. He really did. For just a moment, he thought he could see something, but then, he was back in the dark, surrounded by light he couldn't see.

"Come on, Tim. You can do it. You're in the hospital and you're completely safe. Just open your eyes and look around."

He tried again. His eyes opened to narrow slits and he looked around.

It did look like a hospital room. Still, there was that voice he almost knew. It wasn't a doctor voice. Whose voice was it?

His eyes were still open just barely.

"Wh... thrrr?"

"It's Tony... At least, that's the answer if you're asking who's there, and if you've forgotten me already, I'll be a little miffed."

Tony. Yes, he knew that name. Why did he know that name?

He tried to open his eyes more, but it felt so bright that, as soon as he succeeded, he closed them again, but not before he caught a glimpse of something blurry close to him.

"He didn't hit his head. Why is this so hard for him?"

"Sometimes, anesthesia can be hard to get out of. He'll wake up. Don't rush him."

He could hear the voices talking. About him? He wasn't sure.

"He's going to be okay?"

"He should be. It'll be a fairly long recovery, but his rib did what it was supposed to do and protected his lungs. He'll have a fair amount of pain for a while, but he'll make it. He's lucky. Not everyone gets that."

"Me?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, you, Tim."

"Feel...weird."

"That's anesthesia."

"Oh."

He lay there for a while, not talking, but things started to clear up. And pain started to make itself known. He began to try and really engage with the world around him, if only to figure out some way to stop hurting.

"You hurting, Tim?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, can you do something for him? He says he's hurting."

Someone else was by the bed.

"You're feeling pain?"

He nodded.

"Okay. We'll take care of that. Just hold tight."

He lay there, hoping that the voice was being honest. And then, after some time, the pain began to fade. He also felt more foggy, but that was okay. He tried to open his eyes and this time, they did stay open.

"Hey, Tim. How are you feeling?"

"Weird."

"That's better than before. You thinking clearly?"

He thought about it.

"No."

He looked toward the voice and did recognize the person.

"Tony."

"Yeah?"

He tried to think, but it was too exhausting. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony watched as Tim visibly relaxed. His eyes slipped closed and he was asleep again. He had seemed more connected this time so that was something. He'd been sitting here with Tim ever since he'd been allowed to come in after the surgery. It wasn't the most exciting thing he'd ever done and he'd got something to eat and taken his second pain pill, but beyond that, he didn't want to leave Tim alone to deal with this...when he had been hurt trying to save Tony.

That actually rankled a little bit. Tony liked being the hero. That was part of why he'd chosen to be a detective. He was the hero, solving crimes, taking down criminals, getting justice. That's what he did, and while he believed in the ideals, he could admit that part of it was simply that he could look at himself in the mirror and know that he was the hero of his story.

To have someone like Tim save his life... it was wrong. Tim was supposed to be the one needing saving, not Tony. But at this point, Tim was the hero. He knew Tim wouldn't think of it like that, and he knew that, logically, he'd done his part, too. It was just that small part of him that insisted he should be the one doing everything.

He wanted to call Sacks and insist on doing something...something more exciting than sitting around, waiting for Tim to wake up in his right mind.

So he could say thanks.

Sacks didn't call and Tony sat there for three more hours. Then, Tim began to stir. He winced a little bit, but nothing like before.

"Awake again, Tim?" Tony asked.

"I wish I wasn't," Tim said without opening his eyes.

"You can sleep again if you want to. I don't mind."

Tim shook his head and struggled to open his eyes. This time, they got halfway open, a definite improvement. He turned and looked at Tony.

"You're okay?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Tony said. "Well, besides some bruises that I'm choosing to blame on Ron."

Tim tried to smile, but he didn't make it.

"Am _I_ okay?" he asked.

"You will be. You have a broken rib and some other damage from the bullet, but you were really lucky or the guy was a terrible shot, because he missed all your vital organs."

Tim took a deep breath but then let it all out in a whoosh.

"What now?"

"Now, you take the time you need to get better. ...and that includes more than just your bullet wound."

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to start talking to someone, Tim. This is way out in the open now. It's official with the FBI and we'll be taking Archer and Blaser down sooner rather than later. You said you couldn't when it wasn't safe. It's safe now."

"But they're... still out there... aren't they?"

"Yeah, but not for long."

"How do you know?" Tim asked. "You're here."

"Because I won't stand for anything else. And Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Tim actually seemed to wake up a little more.

"Huh?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. You got shot to save me. I'm a little ticked that you did it, but you did and... thanks," Tony said, feeling awkward.

"Why...would you be mad?"

"Because you took my job."

Tim's brow furrowed. "I don't get it."

"I'm supposed to be the hero, Tim. But you were this time. So you deserve to be thanked for it. I just wish you hadn't felt like you had to."

"It was..." Tim winced a little bit as he tried to move. "It was my fault. I made too much noise."

"Huh? It wasn't about noise, Tim. We were in the middle of a shootout."

Tim's brow furrowed again and he appeared to be thinking hard...through the drugs he was currently on. Then, Tony understood. It wasn't about the noise. It was about guilt. Tim had said he felt guilty about Benedict's death, and Archer's attack had probably only cemented it when Tim was so traumatized by what had happened. And then, he'd had his freakout during the confrontation and he was probably mixed up enough in the head that it was all just one big mess.

And then, Tony saw one more thing: Tim hadn't been the hero of his own story in a long time. He'd been the victim. He'd been the villain. And he'd been able to be a hero by saving Tony, even if there had been plenty of other ways to do it, he'd done what he could.

_I can't take that away from him now._

"Tim, you saved my life. And I'm grateful for that. I'm very attached to my life and I don't want to lose it. And because of the work you've been doing, we'll get Archer out of the way and this will finally be over...like it should have been a year ago."

"Will it ever be over?" Tim asked, suddenly almost teary.

"Yes," Tony said, firmly. "It will. I'll _make_ it be over."

"Can you do that?"

"Yes."

Tim nodded slowly, but Tony wasn't sure he'd really understood. It would be understandable if Tim didn't. He was still drugged up and recovering after being shot. Even if it hadn't been as serious as it could have been, Tim wasn't likely to be thinking quickly.

"I'm going to find someone who will get you a shrink to talk to when you're a little more alert and you're going to get the help you need. You're a captive audience at the moment and I'm going to use that."

In fact, Tony got to his feet and started to leave the room.

"Tony?"

Tony stopped and turned around. Tim looked genuinely scared now.

"What?"

"What if he comes back?"

That was actually a legitimate question. Until they arrested him, who knew where Archer was?

"I'll get someone to watch your room."

"Not the police."

"No, not the police," Tony promised, still irritated that Tim was justifiably frightened of them. "I'll figure something out. Don't worry."

Tim still looked worried. Tony didn't blame him, but he really wanted to be _doing_ something rather than just sitting there. He couldn't do much because of his arm, but he wanted to be as active as he could be.

"Just sit tight. I'll be right back."

Tony stepped out of the room and was lucky enough to catch a nurse.

"Excuse me. Do you have a second?"

The nurse paused.

"Yes. What do you need?"

"My friend in there... He needs to talk to a psychiatrist."

Her stance changed and she looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"A year ago, he had a really bad experience. Saw a guy get killed and some other stuff along with it, but he was so afraid of it happening again that he would never talk to anyone about it, thought it was his fault. Now, I think I've got him convinced to talk to someone, but I'm afraid that he'll refuse again if he leaves here before he does it."

"I can put in a request to Psych to send someone down. They can at least do an initial evaluation and see if he'll talk."

"That would be great. It would be a real shrink, right? Not some person who's just going to fill out a form?"

The nurse raised an eyebrow. She might even have been a little insulted. Tony hurried to explain what he meant.

"Hey, places like this get busy and people get tired. Just like cops do. Sometimes, we phone it in, but Tim really needs someone who won't be phoning it in."

"We'll do our best."

"Thanks. Really. It's not that I'm..."

Then, his phone rang, interrupting his awkward attempt to apologize without really apologizing.

"Sorry," he said.

The nurse smiled and then continued on her way down the hall as Tony answered.

"What?"

"_Got the warrant. Want to come?"_

"Yes!" Then, Tony paused. He'd promised that Tim wouldn't be left alone. "Hey, would you be able to send someone over to watch Tim? He's a little freaked out."

"_He's awake, then?"_

"Yeah. He'll be okay, but he's on some pain meds and a little loopy. Plus..."

There was a pause.

"_Yeah. I'll come and get you and bring someone along."_

"You know where he is?"

"_We don't have a BOLO out since he's a cop. We're going to his house, first. We'll work out from there."_

"Okay."

Tony was now really eager to get going, but he had to let Tim know, drugged up or not. This was going to be over. He didn't care how long it took to find Archer. They'd get him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Sacks was there pretty quickly, but Tony felt like he was almost chomping at the bit to get going. If Archer had any idea that they were on to him, he might just split town completely and then it really would never be over.

Finally, though, he saw Sacks coming down the hall, accompanied by another agent. He stood up from the bench he'd been sitting on and tried not to look _too_ eager.

"Calm down, DiNozzo. If Tim is getting a new guard, he should know who the guy is, first," Sacks said.

"I'm plenty calm."

"Yeah, right." Sacks walked into Tim's room.

Tony followed Sacks and the other agent. Tim was still sitting there, but he looked a little wary.

"Hey, Tim. This is Agent Jackson. He works with me at the FBI. He's going to be watching out for you until Tony and I get back."

"From where?" Tim asked.

"We're making sure this is over," Tony said. "Just like I told you."

"How?"

"Don't worry about it," Sacks said. "We'll be back. I just didn't want you wondering who this guy is."

Jackson smiled. "I'll be right outside the door, Dr. McGee, and if anyone comes in, I'll come in with them to make sure everything is fine. Okay?"

Tim nodded, a little reluctantly.

"Okay."

He clearly wasn't happy about the situation, but Tony wasn't about to stay behind.

"Someone from Psych will probably be coming to talk to you, Tim," Tony said. "Give it a chance, okay?"

Another reluctant nod.

Then, Tony followed Sacks out of the room. As soon as they were in the hall, Sacks stopped and turned around.

"You don't have to go, DiNozzo."

"Yes, I do."

"No. You don't. Just because McGee saved your life doesn't mean you have to be the one taking down Archer. I can do it. I can get another agent to go with me. It doesn't have to be you. In fact, with you injured, it'd be easier with someone else."

"If you think that, then, why are you taking me along?" Tony asked, irritated. "It's not like I would have known one way or the other. If you're so opposed to it, why bother?"

"Because, unlike you, apparently, I have integrity. I told you I would. So I am, but you don't have to be there, and you don't have to take Archer down yourself in order to feel better."

"It's not about how I feel about it. Archer is a cop. He's dirty."

"Yeah? So what? You think that if a good cop takes down a bad one it makes everything better? It doesn't, and you're naive if you think it will."

"That's not it."

"Then, what? Tell me, DiNozzo. What is it? If it's not revenge, if it's not making things better, then, what is it?"

Tony didn't want to. He didn't want to because he didn't want to share his feelings about his own role and how it clashed with what Tim had done for him.

"You won't get it, even if I tell you," he said, finally.

"Try me," Sacks said.

"Fine." Tony couldn't make eye contact while saying it, so he didn't. This was embarrassing enough as it was. "I... I need to be the hero. That's why I decided to be a cop. So I could be the hero making things right, getting justice for the people who won't get it any other way. And if I'm just sitting here, that's not what I am. I'm just another guy."

There was a long pause.

"Okay. Let's go," Sacks said.

And he started walking down the hall. Tony jerked his head back to look at Sacks.

"What?"

"You hard of hearing, DiNozzo? I said, let's go," Sacks said, and then raised his eyebrow and walked away.

Tony followed, feeling more than a little bemused. However, if Sacks was going to let him come along, he was coming along.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was lying in the hospital bed, feeling more awake than he had been, but still not particularly happy about his situation. He also was surprised to realize that one of the things that he didn't like was that Tony and Ron weren't there to watch out for him. At what point had two cops become people who made him feel safer? When did he feel _less_ fear because of the presence of a cop?

There was a knock on the door and he stiffened as the door opened.

A doctor and Agent Jackson came in together.

"Hey, Tim. This is Dr. Torngren. He's a shrink. I checked him out already."

"A shrink?" Tim asked.

Dr. Torngren smiled. "I was warned that you might be reluctant to talk to me. Would you be willing to give it a try?"

"I..." Tim hesitated. "It's... It's not that I don't know that I need help, but..."

Dr. Torngren walked over and sat down.

"Okay. So if you know you need it, then, why not get it?"

"Because I shouldn't take precedence over anyone else. I don't want to get anyone else hurt because of me."

"Why would getting help hurt someone?"

"Because... someone else already died."

Dr. Torngren's brow furrowed slightly.

"When did this happen?"

"Last year."

"Has this death been reported?"

"Yes."

"Okay. So why are you willing to talk now?"

"Tony said that it would be over...but I don't feel like it can be."

"Well, then, why don't you tell me what you can now and we'll see if we can help you get through it. At least, get started."

"Okay."

Tim started to talk about what he had seen and experienced the year before. He didn't tell everything. Not yet. But he started to talk to Dr. Torngren who was soft-spoken and yet felt like someone who could be trusted. It was halting at first, but as Dr. Torngren simply encouraged him to speak, Tim actually felt like he could. A little bit.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why to Archer's house?"

"He hasn't been seen anywhere else that he should be at this time of day. We can't find Halligan, and Blaser is out of sight, too. So I'm guessing Archer is probably ready to make a run for it. If we can catch him before he gets out, all the better, but I doubt he's planning on just running out of town. He'll be using Halligan to get him out of the country. That takes time."

"And if he's not at his house?"

"Then, we start looking, DiNozzo," Sacks said, rolling his eyes. "I thought you got stabbed in the arm, not the head. You forget how to do your job?"

"Don't need to be so sarcastic, Ron," Tony said. "It's a legitimate question."

"Let's see if he's at his house, first. Then, we'll take the next step if we need to."

"Fine, fine."

They drove over to Archer's address. It was a pretty nice place for a cop, even one with a few years' experience. Tony couldn't help wondering just how much Halligan was paying him. He was out in the suburbs of Baltimore, but even with the lower prices in this area, he was still living in a nice place. Tony also wondered how many of his colleagues had seen this place and wondered how he afforded it.

Archer's car was parked in front and the doors were open. It looked like Archer was getting ready to leave.

"Looks like he's here," Tony said.

"Yep. You have the warrant?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You hold it so I have both hands free."

Tony looked at him and Sacks shrugged.

"Just in case."

"Right."

Tony would like to have his own single hand free, but he recognized that Sacks was the one in better position to fire back if necessary. He should be the one unencumbered. Still, he didn't want to show off the fact that he was still recovering from his injury, so he decided to take off the sling.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sacks asked.

"It gets in my way."

"Don't be stupid, DiNozzo."

"You keep telling me that like you think it'll make a difference."

Sacks sighed but said nothing else because Archer came out of his house, walking pretty quickly, a bag in each hand.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Let's do it."

They both got out and walked over to him. He saw them and set his bags down.

"Hey, Archer. Going on a trip?" Tony asked, barely keeping his anger in check.

Archer raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You could say that."

"What else could I say?" Tony asked. "That you're skipping town like the criminal you are?"

"Excuse me?"

"I think you heard me just fine."

"What's the guy in the suit doing here?" Archer asked, gesturing to Sacks.

"Agent Sacks, FBI," Sacks said.

Archer looked surprised for a moment. "Didn't think you two liked each other much."

On the surface everything was calm, but it was only on the surface. Tony didn't know how Sacks was feeling, but Archer was tense and Tony was feeling angry satisfaction.

"Oh, we don't," Tony said. "But we both found something we like a whole lot less."

"What's that?"

"A dirty cop," Sacks said. "We've got a warrant for your arrest."

"A warrant? For what?" Archer asked, smugly. "Who got it for you? That McGee idiot, the one who got Benedict killed?"

"Only he didn't, did he," Tony said. "It was you. Tim had nothing to do with it. You're not only dirty but you screwed over your own partner and tried to blame it on an innocent man."

"You can prove that?"

"We got a warrant," Tony said. "Someone believes us."

"You got a warrant? Let me see it," Archer said.

Tony lifted it up. Archer took one step forward.

...and then, suddenly, he punched Sacks right in the face. Hard. Both Tony and Sacks were taken completely by surprise. Sacks was knocked to the ground, but he was already scrabbling for his gun. Tony fell back a step, but as Archer drew his own weapon, Tony knew that, he had to stop him from firing. Automatically, he reached for his gun with his right hand, feeling the tear as he strained muscles that hadn't healed up yet. It hurt like all get out, but he ignored that and lifted his gun and fired three times before Archer _or_ Sacks could fire.

Archer fell to the ground.

There was a moment of complete silence and then, Tony dropped his gun and grabbed for his forearm, swearing as the pain made itself very well known.

Sacks got to his feet quickly and went over to check Archer. Tony just watched without moving as Sacks moved the gun away from his reach, even though it was clear Archer was dead. Then, he walked over to Tony, looking very irritated.

"Didn't I tell you not to be stupid, DiNozzo?" he demanded.

"Did you want to be dead?" Tony ground out. "You should have told me. I would have let him shoot you instead."

There was a pause.

"How bad?"

"Bad," Tony said, through gritted teeth.

Sacks took hold of his arm and probed at the bandages and then shook his head when he saw the blood seeping through. Tony wasn't happy about that. He'd torn the wound open again. Who knew what he'd done to the muscles inside?

"Can you hold out until we can get some people here?"

"Yeah. I can wait as long as I need to."

"Then, go and sit down. I'll call it in."

Tony looked at Archer.

"We got him."

"Yeah."

"I'm not sorry he's dead," Tony said.

Sacks rolled his eyes.

"Go sit down, DiNozzo. I don't need you fainting on me."

"Yeah, right. I just saved your neck, Sacks."

Tony stalked back to the car, feeling a lot of pain, feeling a little bit of satisfaction, and just not quite sure what to expect next. He sat down feeling more woozy than he'd like to admit.

_This was not my smartest idea._

He sat there, feeling the throbbing pain but refusing to give Sacks the satisfaction of admitting that it hurt.

After too long, there were sirens and a lot of police and FBI cars pulling up. Tony started to get out of the car when Sacks came over and got in.

"Stay put. We're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"Where do you think? To the hospital."

Tony was glad to sit back down and let Sacks drive. It was silent in the car at first. Then, as they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Sacks looked over at him.

"Thanks, Tony."

That was all, but Tony smiled.

"Anytime, Ron."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Tim felt himself waking up again and he was almost glad of it. He was tired. He hurt, but he was waking up without feeling like he was in some alternate universe. He opened his eyes and saw that he wasn't alone in the room.

"Hey, back with us again?"

Tim winced as he moved around, but then, when he saw Tony, he noticed that he was actually a little pale.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We got him, Tim," Tony said. "We found Archer and...he's dead."

"What? What happened? Who did it?"

"Well... I did, actually."

"Oh. I was... I thought..."

Tim hadn't realized that Tony meant there had been more shooting. He had thought he meant they'd found Archer dead somewhere. But that didn't explain why Tony looked so pale.

"What happened to you? Did... _you_ get shot? Agent Sacks?"

"No. Only Archer."

"Then, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, really."

"He was stupid. That's what's wrong," Sacks said as he came into the room.

"I saved your life, Ron, and you know it," Tony said.

It was a lot of the same kind of words that Tim had heard from the two of them before, but somehow, the bitterness behind them was gone. Now, it was more like they were saying the same things as usual out of habit instead of really meaning them.

"What happened?" Tim asked yet again.

"Archer got too close, punched me out," Sacks said. "And Tony pulled his gun and shot him before he could fire on us."

"And I pulled my stitches. My doctor has already lectured me on that, but I'm lucky I didn't retear the muscle, too."

"Yeah. I was getting my gun, Tony."

"Well, you weren't fast enough. You should be faster than an injured guy."

Tim was watching the exchange, wondering if he should be shocked or amused. In fact, he wasn't sure what he should be feeling at all, but he did know that he should say something.

"Thank you," he said.

Tony and Sacks both looked back at him.

"What?" Tony asked.

"I said, thank you."

"Who are you saying it to?"

Tim smiled a little. "Both of you, actually."

"What for?" Sacks asked.

"For helping me...for listening to me, even when I didn't want to say anything."

Tony and Sacks looked at each other and seemed a little sheepish, actually.

"I was just nosy," Tony said.

"And you cared," Tim said. "And no matter the reason for it, you got me to do something I haven't been able to do, not in a year. You got me to trust. I lost that, and I used to be too trusting, but then, I stopped trusting anyone and I was lying here feeling uncomfortable, and I realized it was because neither of you were here watching out for me...and I don't know how it happened that I got to trust cops again...but I did."

Tim could see that they were both uncomfortable with the praise, but he had to say it. However, now, he was feeling the strain of his own injury again and he was tired. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Just had to say that," he said softly. "And now..."

"Now, what?"

"Now, I'm tired," he mumbled and whatever answer either of them might have made to that was lost as he felt asleep, strangely comforted by the presence of two men he hadn't even known a few weeks before.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony watched as Tim fell asleep and he couldn't help but smile a little at what he'd said.

"How about that," Sacks said.

"Yeah."

Tony glanced over at Sacks and saw that he still looked a little uncomfortable. In fact, he quickly turned toward the door.

"Well, some of us still have to work. We need to track down Blaser and Halligan if we can."

"What are the odds of that?"

"I don't know," Sacks said. "Halligan, probably not good. He's got ways in and out of the country and he's experienced. Blaser? Unless he made himself indispensable, we can probably get him. But we're breaking up this corruption and that's something that needed to happen. Even if we didn't get everyone, we stopped this one." He paused at the door. "And Tim needs to get credit for what he did. He got blamed enough. People need to know what he actually did."

"Yeah. They do."

"Well, you have time off and if you're not stupid, you'll use it."

Tony smiled. "I think I'll find something to do that won't lead to me hurting my arm."

"Good."

Then, Sacks was gone and Tony sat back to wait for Tim to wake up again. He was under strict orders not to strain himself today. In fact, his doctor had been more than a little miffed at all the exertion Tony had been inflicting on himself only a few days after being stabbed. He was now not supposed to even think about going back to work for the next ten days. Only then, would his doctor consider approving his return to work.

So he had made plans to use his time.

He really wanted to get to know Tim when he didn't have all this stuff hanging over him. Of course, it wouldn't happen all at once, and Tony didn't doubt that Tim would have lingering problems from suppressing everything for the last year, but once Tim was out of the hospital, Tony was going to do his best to get to know this computer geek, _and_ he was going to try and make sure that Tim had some fun.

Tony knew that Tim had his own friends, but he also knew that Tim hadn't told anyone everything. So what better way to show his own gratitude than by helping Tim get over his trauma and learn how to enjoy life again?

He decided to hang out until Tim woke up again to see if he'd be okay by himself for a while. Tony didn't want to stay at the hospital, but if Tim felt better with company, he should be willing to do it.

For the next couple of hours, Tony sat and waited, watching Tim sleep. He hadn't just sat around like this in a long time. He always had something to do, people to go out with, places to go. To just sit and wait was foreign...but it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. In fact, it really was quite nice to sit and contemplate, a little bit of calm in the midst of chaos.

After an hour, Tim started to wake up again. Tony knew the feeling far too well. Tim was probably really tired, but at the same time, he was uncomfortable, meaning that he woke up a lot. Tony waited until Tim's eyes opened and actually stayed open.

"Awake again, huh?"

Tim looked over at him in some confusion.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You said you felt better with someone around. So I'm around," Tony said.

"Oh. You don't have to."

"You talk to the shrink?"

Tim looked down at the bed.

"Yeah."

"Hey, nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone knows that you've needed the help. If you're getting it now, that's great." Tony paused. "Did it help?"

"Yeah. Some. I think."

"Good. You going to keep it up?"

"Yeah. Probably."

"Good. Now, I have a question for you. No obligation, you understand."

Tim looked up at that and his brow furrowed.

"What?"

"My doctor told me in no uncertain terms that I had to take it easy for the next week or so. I figure you'll probably be taking it easy, too."

Tim shifted and then winced. "Yeah. I don't want to do anything even if I can."

"So here's my question: Do you mind if I hang around here?"

"What?"

"Now that everything is calming down, I'd like to see what you're like when the world isn't knocking you down."

"Well, I'm pretty boring, really," Tim said, slowly. "I'm a computer guy, remember?"

"You said that before. You also said that it was never the only thing you wanted to be. You said you always wanted to be more than that."

"That doesn't mean that I am," Tim said.

"Sure it does! I mean, I met you without you being just a computer guy."

"No, you didn't. You guessed right away."

"But that wasn't all you were, not even from that first night," Tony said.

Tim shifted around a little and winced again.

"Oh, come on," he said. "I know I'm a major wimp about this but you don't have to pretend."

"I'm not. You think you're being a wimp because getting shot hurt you? Let me tell you, Tim, getting shot hurts everyone. Everyone. No one gets shot without it hurting and it doesn't matter where the bullet hits. If it doesn't kill you right away, it hurts. Don't get fooled by what they show on TV. A bullet graze can knock you out. You can get woozy from the shock. It hurts! And your wound could have killed you if it had gone a little bit one way or another. You lucked out, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It just means you didn't die."

Tim actually smiled at that. Tony decided to push it just a little.

"And it doesn't make you weak if you couldn't get over seeing a man killed or getting beat up by a scummy cop when you had no reason to expect that to happen. If you hadn't been so afraid of someone else getting hurt because of it, you would have got the help you've needed and you wouldn't have been struggling after a year. Now, you have the chance to get that and I don't want you to see it as weakness because if you do, you won't keep it up and you need to. You deserve to."

"Deserve?" Tim asked, looking surprised.

"Yes. Deserve. You deserve to learn how to let this go and set it aside and live your life without this dark cloud hovering over you all the time." Tony paused. "And if you don't mind, I want to be there to see it."

Silence.

"So...do you mind?"

Tim smiled a little hesitantly.

"I guess... I guess I don't. What do you think I'm going to be doing?"

"Talking, hopefully. I can't do it all."

Tim laughed.

"I don't know. You've done a lot and I've only known you for a few weeks."

Tony grinned. "I told you. I can talk until people talk just to shut me up, but I'd rather have a real conversation on occasion."

"Don't you already have friends?"

"Yep, and I always like getting more of them."

"And you think _I_ could be one of them," Tim said, dubiously.

"Yep."

"Even though we have absolutely nothing in common."

"Hey, we both got injured in the line of duty," Tony said, holding up his sling.

"I'm serious, Tony. You and I don't have anything in common. You probably would have been a jock in school and the jocks always tease the nerds which is what I am."

"I haven't been in high school in a long time, Tim. Pretty sure you haven't either," Tony said, persevering against all of Tim's protests. If he thought that Tim had no interest, he'd give up, but he was sure that Tim was just wary.

"So?"

"So high school attitudes don't have any bearing on adult decisions. Or at least they shouldn't."

Tim was quiet again.

"If you're not interested, you'd better say so," Tony said. "I'm not one who takes hints very well. So if you aren't interested and you want me to just leave you alone, tell me now. Otherwise, you're going to be stuck with me bugging you."

"What if you really do think I'm boring?"

Tony grinned. "Then, I'll drop you like a hot rock and move on with my life."

That startled a laugh out of Tim, but he winced right after that.

"Sorry. Shouldn't make jokes when you can't laugh freely."

Tim smiled. "So that was a joke?"

"Well, I'd be more subtle about it, but since I still want to know more about those detective novels on your bookshelf, I don't think I'll find you boring at all."

"I still don't understand why you think those are so interesting. They're just books."

"But they're not to you."

Tim looked self-conscious.

"Are they," Tony said.

Tim shook his head.

...and then, yawned.

"Oh, one more thing, I know you've got other friends yourself. You should let them know where you are...and what you've been dealing with now that you can. No reason to keep them in the dark when it's going to be public knowledge soon."

"What? Why?" Tim asked, not looking at all tired.

"You got too much publicity last year as the idiot blundering into a situation that got someone killed. That's how I got told about it and I believed it. I was wrong. Now, people are going to know that you're a hero who was trying to help take down a smuggling ring. All the cops are going to know that they were looking the other way to protect a criminal, rather than helping an innocent civilian."

"You don't need to do that," Tim said. "I don't need to have anyone knowing."

"Yes, you do. I still remember what you said that first night."

"What?"

"That you don't want any attention, not now. What happened to you was wrong and it was traumatic. You deserve to have people know that it was wrong."

"I don't want people to know about Archer beating me up. I let that lie last year. I don't want that to change," Tim said.

"It may not be in the paper, but you can bet cops are going to know about it, and if you're worried about retaliation, don't. The one that might be resented is me for bringing him down, but since Archer is scum, I don't care. Worst possibility? I move to another job. I've done that before. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Maybe move to the FBI?" Tim asked.

"What? I couldn't do that! Ron would..." Tony stopped when he saw the twinkle of mischief in Tim's eyes. "Oh, good one, Tim. Good one. You got me."

Tim smiled, winced yet again and then yawned yet again.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to overdo it. In fact, if you're feeling okay, I'll go home and get some sleep myself. You okay?"

"Yeah. Agent Jackson is still here."

"He is, and you're going to be okay, Tim. Just give it time."

"Thanks, Tony," Tim said.

Then, his eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep very quickly. Tony smiled and then, winced himself as he jarred his arm. Well, time to go home. He got up and left Tim's room, smiled at Agent Jackson and then went on his way. When he got out of the hospital, he was surprised to see Sacks coming in.

"What are you doing back here?" Tony asked.

"Wanted to let you know that Halligan got away."

"What? How?"

"One of far too many aliases. He just flew out. Probably ran as soon as the attack on us failed."

"Where is he?"

"Mexico right now, but I doubt he'll be there long. He doesn't operate out of the south."

"So we lost the big fish," Tony said, feeling irritated that Halligan had escaped again. "What about Blaser?"

"From what we can see, Halligan was alone. That means Blaser is still around. We're looking. You want a ride home?"

"Yeah, actually. That would be nice."

"Good."

They walked together to the car, and Tony was surprised to realize that he felt no need to needle Sacks at all. ...but he couldn't resist saying nothing.

"You know, this is like the end of _Killdozer_."

"What? Are you crazy? This is nothing like the end of _Killdozer_," Sacks said.

Tony stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wait. You've seen _Killdozer_? _You_ have seen _Killdozer_?"

Sacks stopped, too, and raised his eyebrow as he did so well.

"Clint Walker, Carl Betz. Made-for-TV movie from the 70s. It's utterly ridiculous but actually pretty well made for such a silly story."

"Huh."

Tony stared at Sacks for a few seconds and then they kept walking. He didn't know why this was so shocking to him, but the idea that Sacks knew a movie he knew, and not a really popular one, either, was just bizarre. He kept glancing sideways at him.

Finally, as they got to the car, Sacks noticed.

"I like B monster movies," he said. "Get over it, DiNozzo."

He got in the car. Tony hesitated and then followed suit. The ride over to his place was silent. When they got there, Tony started to get out and then... he had no idea where it came from, but it slipped out before he could even think about why the thought was even in his brain.

"I have the original _The Blob_. Steve McQueen."

Sacks looked at him, looking as surprised at the implied invitation as Tony felt at giving the implied invitation.

Then, he smiled. In fact, that might have been the first time Tony had ever really seen him with anything but a scowl or solemn expression.

"I'll take a raincheck," he said.

"Okay."

Tony got out of the car and went up to his apartment. It seemed very strange that he'd been here such a short time ago and how changed everything was.

Regardless, he was tired, aching and hungry.

Time to eat and then go to bed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Tim lay in the hospital bed, thinking about everything that had been happening, about Tony saying he wanted to get to know him and about the fact that it seemed that it was actually safe to talk about what he had been hiding. It still scared him, though. Now, he was waiting for Lewis to show up. He knew he would because Tim had called him but it had gone to voicemail so Tim hadn't actually spoken to him. But Lewis knowing that Tim was in the hospital, he'd drop everything and come to visit. So Tim was just waiting for the inevitable.

What more could he do? It felt like the story was going on without him and while a part of him was thrilled about that, part of him was afraid of being forgotten, that he'd end up back in his prison again, just for lack of any other option.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Tim said.

The door opened and in came Agent Jackson.

"You know these guys, Tim?" he asked.

Lewis and Janice were hovering behind him, looking very concerned. Tim found that he could even smile a little bit.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Okay." Agent Jackson stood aside and then left them to talk.

"Tim, what happened?" Janice asked. She hurried to the bed and took his hand, squeezing it very tightly.

"I got shot, Janice," Tim said. "And I don't want to move much. Sorry."

"Sorry? Oh, man," Lewis said. "Is this because of what you were trying to do to help?"

"Yeah," Tim said. He sighed and winced.

"Are you going to be okay?" Janice asked. "I can see you're not right now."

"I'm definitely not right now, and I get tired a lot still. Sorry if I fall asleep on you."

"Don't apologize. We'll stay as long as you want us to," Lewis said. "Can you tell us anything at all?"

Tim hesitated. It was so automatic to hide it that talking about it now was a little nerve-racking. Then, he took a breath, winced and nodded.

"I knew the cop I saw killed last year," he said finally, in a low voice. "He came to me for help with a case he was working on and he and I were working on it for months. That's why he was killed, but there was a cop who was part of it and I was afraid that he'd kill me if I let on that I knew anything... because I didn't know _who_ it was, just that it was a cop. So I didn't dare tell anyone and I've been hiding that."

"Oh, Tim, that's awful," Janice said, probably to keep Lewis from lecturing him. "So why did this all happen now? After a whole year?"

"One of the other detectives started looking into the case and he asked me to tell him what I knew but it was hard because I was still so afraid."

"That's what's been making you freak out so much lately. Right?" Lewis asked.

"Yeah. Every time I tried to talk about it, I panicked, but I finally got it out and we were on our way to the FBI when some people tried to kill us. We only barely got away." He avoided mentioning just how he'd been shot. He felt that it was only what was necessary to have tried to save Tony, but it would sound either better or worse than it was.

"Tim, I know you're hurting right now, so I won't hug you but..." Janice leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. It was very maternal of her, even though she was only a few years older. Tim found that he didn't mind.

"And then, the cop said I needed to start talking about it and the shrink said so, too. So I'm trying but no details right now, okay?"

"Of course not," Janice said, looking hard at Lewis, clearly talking to him as much as to Tim. "We'll just be here. How long before you're released?"

"I don't know. It depends on what the doctors say. I sure don't feel great right now."

"Don't rush yourself," Lewis said, with a tone that indicated he'd convinced himself not to lecture Tim at the moment. "Have you told Danielle?"

"No, I haven't told anyone but you," Tim said. "I haven't wanted to tell anyone at all, but I need to."

"Well, I'll tell her for you tomorrow, okay? No details, just a few things so she knows."

"Okay," Tim said. Then, suddenly, he thought of something else and he tried to sit up, but it hurt him to move and he sagged back.

"Whoa, Tim! Calm down," Lewis said, gently pushing him down. "What's wrong?"

"I'm supposed to be meeting with Jason next week! He was going to discuss the independent study course with me. He probably sent me his proposal days ago. I promised to look it over." Tim was ashamed to realize that his job had completely left his mind over the last week. His fear had taken over and replaced everything else.

"Calm down, Tim," Lewis said again. "I'll have Danielle tell him that he'll need to reschedule. She'll know who he is, won't she?"

"Yeah."

"Then, she can contact him. Okay?"

Tim sighed and relaxed. He hated disappointing his students, especially the good ones like Jason. Many students disappointed him on a regular basis, but he didn't want to return the favor and besides, Jason had never disappointed him.

"Thanks," he said, feeling all his energy drain out of him, leaving him completely limp.

"All right. You're not looking so hot," Lewis said. "We won't overstay our welcome."

Tim thought about asking them to stay longer but he was very tired again, so he just mustered up a smile and closed his eyes.

"We're here for you, Tim. Anytime you need us. Just say so and we'll come," Janice said softly.

"Thanks," Tim mumbled and fell asleep again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony didn't make it back to the hospital the next day, mostly because he needed a break, but it was more than that. There was quite a bit of chaos in the BPD, what with the revelation of corruption and the death of Archer at Tony's hands. A cop killing a fellow cop. If Tony was honest, he really wasn't sure of his reception in the office when he eventually went back. No one had come to visit him or had called and he was sure that they'd all know about it by now. He was sure he'd be questioned. Hopefully, by the FBI unless he found out that they didn't resent him.

No matter what he'd told Tim, this was something that worried him. Archer had been in the district much longer than he had. He had been well-known and mostly well-liked. It would be nice if he could know about what his coworkers were thinking.

However, for a full day, he heard nothing from anyone. In a way that was good. He had the chance to relax and let himself heal as he really hadn't since his injury.

Then, finally, two days afterward, he got a call midway through the day. He answered quickly.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, Tony. It's Clark. How are you feeling?"_

"Not bad," Tony said, cautiously.

"_You want to get lunch?"_

"Yeah. Sure. I can't drive yet."

"_I'll come and get you."_

"Thanks."

"_Bye."_

Not exactly a rousing conversation but at least he was talking and Tony wasn't worried about Clark doing something to him. He liked to think he was a pretty good judge of character in general and Clark was on the level. If he was angry, he would have said so.

So Tony made himself presentable and made sure he had money so he could offer to pay. Then, he went down to the sidewalk and waited. Clark showed up after about five minutes. He looked at Tony and gestured. Tony got into the car and they drove off to a sandwich place so that Tony could eat more easily. For a few minutes, there wasn't much talk, and Tony decided just to nip it in the bud.

"So, Clark? What's up? You must have had a reason to invite me to lunch."

"I can't just want to check on my partner?" Clark asked.

Tony widened his eyes skeptically. "Come on, Clark. Not right now, you can't. Not with what's been happening. I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"You're wondering whether or not I really shot Archer. Yes, I did. You're wondering if there was another way or if I just wanted him dead. No, I didn't want him dead, although I'm not crying about it. There was no other way. He was drawing to fire. You're wondering if you can trust me. As much as you ever did."

"As much as I ever did?" Clark repeated.

Tony chanced a smile. "Well, I know that I've managed to weasel out of paying for lunch a few times."

"Only a few? You probably owe me over a hundred bucks for all the times I've covered your meals."

But Clark smiled a little and relaxed a fraction.

"Probably."

Then, the smile vanished.

"Tony, be serious for a minute, okay? Was Archer really dirty?"

"Yeah. He's the one who killed Benedict."

"Oh, come on. It's one thing if he was getting paid but killing his own partner?"

"You come on, Clark," Tony said seriously. "You think that cops are somehow immune from being murderers? I don't like it any more than you do. That wasn't what I thought I'd find when I started looking at the case. I thought I'd find something more than was in the case file, but I didn't think I'd find this. The evidence is there. And most of it came from Timothy McGee."

"I wasn't the one in charge of this case last year, Tony. I had nothing to do with the fact that people chose to ignore his testimony," Clark said. "You can blame me for not saying anything about what Archer did to him. That's on me, but I wasn't part of the investigation."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I know. I've got to know Dr. McGee in the last few weeks, Clark. What happened to him traumatized him. He lost almost everything because of what Archer did, both in killing Benedict and in beating him up because no one would stop him. He's afraid of people, of being outside his apartment. He has anxiety. It could have been avoided if someone had told him what happened to him was wrong. Maybe not all of it, but a lot of it."

Clark leaned back in his chair and didn't answer that.

"So...what's the word on my coming back?"

"You think you won't be welcome?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility. I wouldn't be the first cop ostracized for not keeping my mouth shut."

"Not for something like this."

"Even for something like this," Tony said. "Either you're lying to yourself or you're lying to me, Clark. For some cops, it's all about that thin blue line, whether a person should be part of it or not. Is it that way for you?"

"No."

"What about the others?"

"I don't know. There's... a lot of tension right now, but Archer is dead...killed by you. Blaser is missing. That drug dealer, Halligan, escaped. We're under a lot of scrutiny right now. Internal Affairs is involved. You know what that can mean."

Tony did. No one liked Internal Affairs getting involved. Sometimes, things that weren't really wrong but might be frowned upon came up and it could get everyone in trouble. Sometimes, something completely unrelated to the case was discovered making everything drag out longer. They tended to hold their breath and tread carefully when Internal Affairs was on the scene.

He nodded.

"Maybe it's a good thing you're still out right now. It'll give everyone a chance to adjust. But I really don't know what everyone is thinking about you."

"Then, how about just you? Do you want me to come back? Or are you going to find some reason not to be my partner anymore?" Tony asked.

"Tony."

"I'm serious, Clark. We work together. We have each other's backs. Times like in the bar last week... I need to know that the guy I'm working with isn't going to start hoping something happens to me. Or that my partner doesn't trust me. I need to know that because I won't work that way and I'd rather quit and find a new job than deal with a partner who wishes I wasn't there."

"That's not how I feel," Clark said. "That's not what I was thinking at all."

Tony was relieved that Clark answered so quickly because it meant that he wasn't needing to think about what to say or how he felt. He already knew.

"But?"

"But I'm glad that you need some time off for everyone to think about it and let things blow over from the IA investigation."

"Yeah. Have you heard anything about it yet?"

Clark shook his head. "Nope. They're just starting and are staying tight-lipped about it for now."

"No big surprise there."

"No."

They went back to their sandwiches and finished their meal. Then, they walked out of the restaurant together.

"So...when are you coming back?" Clark asked.

"My doctor lectured me for doing too much with my arm. I tore the stitches and so I'm not allowed to even _think_ about going back to work for ten days. Maybe two weeks if he's feeling vindictive."

Clark chuckled a little.

"Well, I guess I'll have to wait a while to collect the free beer from the bar, then."

Tony grinned. "No reason to wait _that_ long, but I should wait until I'm not taking prescription painkillers before I start drinking alcohol again."

"Probably a good idea." Clark hesitated as they got into the car. "So... how is the professor doing?"

"Okay. He saved my life, Clark."

"How?"

"When we were under fire, he stopped me from getting shot in the back by getting shot himself. He lucked out and he'll recover from that, but he's finally willing to talk about what happened and that'll help more than anything else."

Clark nodded and drove Tony back home.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Me, too."

Another hesitation. "And I'll tell the guys at work that McGee was the innocent one in this."

Tony knew how hard that was to do and he really appreciated it.

"Thanks, Clark."

"You're welcome. Next time, you can pay for lunch."

Tony smiled. "Will do."

He went back to his apartment and sat down on the couch. That had gone better than he could have hoped. Would going back be easy? No, probably not, at least not for a while. A few years ago, he would have just taken that as a sign that it was time to move on. Cops were always needed and he'd never had a hard time getting a job, but he was actually making some real connections here and he didn't want to lose his friends, so he was glad that this seemed to be working out as well as it could.

And tomorrow, he could start seeing if he had another new friend. ...maybe even two.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Tim was lying in his hospital bed, thinking again. Every time he'd met with the shrink in the last couple of days, he had felt extremely introspective afterward, which was probably the point. He couldn't really say he was cured, not in body _or_ in mind, but neither could he deny that he felt a lot better than he had in the last year. In fact, he was at the point where he wanted to get out of the hospital, but he wasn't so eager that he'd insist on it.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he said, a little cautiously, wondering who it might be.

Tony walked in, looking a lot better than he had the last time Tim had seen him.

"How are you feeling, Tim?" he asked.

"Okay," Tim said. In fact, _okay_ was probably a good word for him right now. Not good. Not bad. Just okay.

"That good, huh."

Tim smiled a little. "It's better than I've been."

"I guess so."

"You're looking better than you were before," Tim said.

"I try," Tony said with a grin. "But really, I was going to come yesterday but I was still feeling not so great, so I decided to be lazy."

"That's fine. You don't _have_ to come and visit me, you know. I don't expect it."

"I know. I wanted to, but I actually listened to my doctor. It's a momentous occasion. I'm not very good at doing that."

Tim looked at Tony for a long moment. He wasn't always sure if he should take what Tony said as genuine or a joke. He switched back and forth so quickly that sometimes it was like he was being both at once. It was one of those things that made him unsure about Tony in general. Tim had a sense of humor, but he wasn't usually making jokes about serious things like this.

Suddenly, he jerked backward as Tony started waving his hand in front of Tim's face.

"Yo! Ground control to Major Tom! ...Hey, that actually works. Major Tim!"

Tim couldn't help but laugh at that. Even he knew that song.

"I'm not a major."

"But you wanted to be an astronaut, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"So why didn't you do anything in astronomy if you wanted to be an astronaut?" Tony asked, suddenly serious again.

Tim shrugged.

"No, really. Why not?"

"I took astronomy classes when I was getting my bachelor's," Tim said. "I minored in astronomy."

"So why computers, then?"

"I'm good at it."

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you didn't lead off with it, either."

"You're thinking too much about this, Tony," Tim said. "I'm allowed to like more than one subject. And I'm allowed to think about practicality over enjoyment if I want to."

"So it _is_ about what's practical," Tony said.

"Well, isn't it always, partly?" Tim asked. "If I loved underwater basket weaving, it doesn't matter how much I love it if I can't get a job doing it. I need to be able to support myself."

"Astronomy isn't exactly underwater basket weaving," Tony said.

"No, but I've been using computers since I was a kid. They're second nature to me. It's not just that I can use them if they're working right. I understand them. And it's also a big part of the world today. So I knew I could easily find a job in some part of it, but I wanted real human interaction, not just computer servers and coding. I gave myself three years after finishing my Ph.D. to find a job in a university so that I could have what I wanted."

"What if you hadn't got it?" Tony asked.

"I would have got a job somewhere else so taht I could be independent and not have wasted my schooling. It cost a lot of money, you know."

"How close were you?" Tony asked. "To just getting a job anywhere?"

"I got the interview at Johns Hopkins two days before I was going to start applying. I'd already made a list of companies I was going to send my resume to."

"That's why your job means so much to you, isn't it," Tony said. "Because you'd almost made the decision to give up."

"Yeah."

"Would you really have done it?"

"Yes." Then, Tim sighed. "I just hope my committee will understand all this."

"Your committee?" Tony asked, blankly.

"My tenure committee. I'm up for tenure this year and I've been focused on that as much as I could be, but I let it kind of fall to the side the last little while. If I don't get tenure, I'm basically getting fired and I really don't want that. I don't want to have to start all over again."

"Is that really a possibility?"

"I don't know. Part of me is terrified that it is while another part knows that I've done everything I could...and more. I would do whatever they said was necessary. I'd crawl around on the floor and completely renetwork the system here single-handed if I thought it would help me get tenure."

"Whatever it takes?" Tony asked.

"Yeah." Tim paused for a moment. "When you really want something, you have to be willing to fight to get it, even if it's hard or unpleasant. You have to believe that it's worth it, though. If you don't, why bother?"

"I get it," Tony said.

"You do?" Tim asked, surprised. He really had expected more confusions, or perhaps a polite expression of disbelief.

"Yeah. After what happened with Archer, some of the cops aren't sure about it and what I did. The easy thing would be to walk away and just get a new job somewhere else... but I like where I am right now. I have friends and a job, a place that came with a piano." He stopped and grinned, as if he knew that Tim still was weirded out by that. "I don't want to give that up like I have before."

"You have?"

"Yeah." Tony looked a little self-conscious. "Been jumping around from place to place for a few years, not bothering to make connections at all. I just worked and moved on to something else. That's what I've done for quite a while. But I'm tired of doing that. So if I don't have to, I'm not going to." He smiled again. "I'm willing to fight for it now."

Tim found himself smiling back, surprised at how easily Tony seemed to be confiding in him. He was struck anew at how strange it was that the two of them could find anything in common when, on the surface, they had absolutely nothing at all in common.

...but then, another wave of tiredness washed over him and he couldn't stifle a yawn. Tony instantly stood up to leave.

"Sorry," Tim said, feeling bad about seeming to reject Tony's company.

"No, I get it. You're still recovering. No worries. I'll see you later."

"You're sure you still want to?" Tim asked.

"Yep."

"Okay." Tim closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. He mumbled something unintelligible and then heard Tony leave.

And he couldn't stay awake to think anymore.

So he fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony smiled as Tim obviously tried to fight his tiredness and let himself out of the room. The pain meds in combination with the general lack of energy that accompanied a serious injury always made it difficult to stay awake for any significant length of time. Tim was doing better, but he was also still needing time. So as he left, he felt no worries about Tim's current state, or at least no serious ones.

However, he had noticed a distinct lack of communication from the FBI regarding the case over the last couple of days. Yesterday, Tony had simply been grateful to have some time to himself after the chaos of the last few weeks. Nevermind that he'd basically volunteered to do it. He still needed recovery. But he didn't like not knowing what was going on and there was no way that he'd bring it up to Tim unless he could say that everything was going great. After all, Blaser was still at large. Even if Halligan had escaped justice yet again, Tony wanted to be sure that Blaser went down for his role in this whole debacle. Either that or he sang like a canary...and then, went to prison where the other prisoners really liked the cops. It was vindictive. Tony knew it, but he wouldn't really have any say in the matter and Blaser had been part of the plan to take Tim out. He dserved it.

Okay. It was time to bug Sacks again. As he left the hospital, he pulled out his phone and dialed the all-too-familiar number.

"_What do you want, DiNozzo? I'm busy," _Sacks said, instead of saying hello.

"Catching Blaser?" Tony asked.

There was a pause.

"_You don't get to be in on that one, Tony. Not this time."_

"So you found him?" Tony asked.

"_Why are you asking?"_

"Sacks, what's going on? It's a simple question. Have you tracked down Blaser yet?"

A long pause again.

"_Tony, I get that you hate the guy. I don't blame you. I don't like him all that much either, but I'm not going to help you get revenge for what happened to Tim."_

"Whoa. What in the world makes you think I'm wanting revenge? I just asked a question."

"_The tone of your voice. You're too eager and there's anger behind it. If you start probing for information, you may just try to get enough to go after him yourself and I won't help you with that."_

Tony wanted to be annoyed at Sacks' interpretation of his simple question, but he couldn't deny that the possibility was definitely there. He'd like to think he'd be smarter than going off on some personal vendetta, but wasn't that what had started the animosity between them in the first place? Sacks was a by-the-rules guy while Tony felt that the rules could be disregarded if the situation called for it. And then, he was surprised at himself for actually trying to give Sacks the benefit of the doubt when he never had before. Go figure.

"I'm not going to do that," Tony said, finally, trying not to get angry. "I just want to know where the FBI is at in finding Blaser, even if Halligan got away. That's it. I promise. Cross my heart."

One more long pause. Was it that Sacks was still hesitant to trust Tony or was it that he was surprised at the lack of needling?

"_We got a tip that might be panning out. If you leave me alone, I can go and see."_

Tony grinned. "Well, far be it from me to keep you from doing some real work, Ron. Get on with it. ...but let me know, all right?"

"_Yeah. I will."_ Then, Sacks hung up.

Tony smiled to himself and then got a taxi and went home. He enjoyed another leisurely evening and went to bed early, hoping to bully his arm into healing faster just because he really was trying to rest instead of pushing it to do more than he should.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Tim was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking again. He wasn't sure about what to expect with his coming release from the hospital. No one had said anything about him still being in danger...but at the same time, there was still an FBI agent outside. When he had asked Tony about it, he had said it was "just in case". In case of what, Tim didn't know, but it did make him leery about leaving. It wasn't like he could really expect around-the-clock protection once he left. He wasn't some big important person. He was just a college professor.

Suddenly, there was some commotion outside his room, and he tensed up, afraid that he really _was_ in danger and that the FBI agent guarding him would be killed next.

Then, the door opened and Tony came hurrying in.

"Oh, good. You're awake. I wasn't sure if you would be, but you need to see this!"

"See what?" Tim asked.

Tony seemed to ignore him and just turned on the TV and flipped it to ZNN.

"Tony, what–?"

"Sh! Just watch! I'm sure they'll say it again. They always repeat themselves a zillion times."

Tim turned his gaze to the TV. There was currently an ad for something that supposedly improved one's memory and was derived from jellyfish.

"I'm assuming it's not this commercial?" he asked.

Tony laughed. "No. It's not, of course. I'm sure your memory is just fine. Be patient!"

Then, the news program came on.

"_This is Mathias Terreton with ZNN. We're now getting some more information about the death of BPD detective Keith Archer and the early morning arrest of BPD detective Allan Blaser. As you may know, there were questions regarding the circumstances of Detective Archer's death and the FBI left many of those questions unanswered, stating that their investigation was ongoing. What we are now learning is that these events are linked to an undercover operation which began more than a year ago by BPD detective John Benedict, who died last year. He was working with Johns Hopkins professor Timothy McGee to uncover what he thought to be corruption within the Baltimore Police Department."_

"Tony, I said that..."

"Hush! Listen!"

"_I seem to remember that Professor McGee was blamed for interfering with Detective Benedict's investigation and inadvertently leading to his death."_

"_That's right, Margene. But now, the FBI is telling a different story. They are saying that the professor was actually the one who led them to Detective Archer and Detective Blaser as the source of corruption in the BPD and that his work was instrumental both a year ago and today."_

"Tony..."

"Listen! I don't think they're done yet!"

"_Here is FBI Agent Ron Sacks who has been the lead in the investigation."_

The screen shifted to a pre-recorded segment.

"_A year ago, Professor McGee was blamed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, we know that he was in the right place at the right time, but due to the nature of the work he had been doing, he didn't dare reveal his part and so he took the blame without any expectation of his actual work being known. Now, it's time to let him take the credit for all that he's done."_

Tim felt his cheeks warming at all the accolades being tossed his way. He didn't feel like he'd done anything worth cheering for. He knew that he'd been a coward to hide what he had been doing and maybe it would have been better if...

"Hey, no looking like that," Tony said. "I can see what you're thinking and you deserve this, Tim. You _didn't_ deserve what happened last year, not any of it. And you definitely didn't deserve to go through all that anxiety. This isn't enough to give back the time you lost, but it's a start and even if most people don't really think about it, this is something that's important to do."

"But...all I did was... _not_ say anything when it could have done more good," Tim said.

"No, you tried to help and then, you helped again, even when you weren't sure you could handle it. You should never have been so afraid that you couldn't go to someone for help, but you were and it's because of what people believed about you. It was wrong and we won't let it stay that way."

"_We'll keep you updated as we learn more. This is Mathias Terreton, ZNN."_

"There! See?" Tony asked. He looked thrilled as if he had created the news story all by himself.

"I see... but..."

"No. This is a good thing and I don't want to hear you questioning whether or not it is."

"Does this mean it's over, then?" Tim asked. "There was still Halligan."

"And he left Blaser and Archer high and dry. He's all about himself and the FBI has already been looking for him, and since he got away, he'll lay low. He's not going to be coming after you in revenge. It wouldn't serve any purpose for him and it might get him caught. Basically, you're not worth it."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying that?"

"I joke about a lot of things, Tim, but never about important stuff like that."

"What about the police?" Tim asked.

He saw Tony's brief expression. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't positive. Chagrin, maybe? He wasn't sure.

"They know they were wrong about you. They probably knew it a long time ago, _but_ if something happens, you tell me and I'll make sure it stops. And I'm serious about that, too," Tony said. "No one has the right to make you feel bad for being the good guy and I won't stand for it."

Tim found he could smile a little at Tony's vehemence. It was nice to hear and he was slowly losing his instinctual fear, but it wasn't gone yet.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," Tony said, grinning. "Now, you know that you're in the news and there may end up being people who want to get your point of view."

"I'm not interested," Tim said, instantly. "I don't want to do that."

"You don't have to, but they may ask."

"I don't want the attention."

"Not anymore?" Tony asked.

"Huh?"

"The first night I met you. You said that you didn't want attention anymore, implying that you used to."

Tim blushed a little. He couldn't believe that Tony remembered something he'd said almost as an afterthought at a time when he was feeling overwhelmed by being outside among strangers.

"So you did?"

Tim shrugged.

"Well?" Tony asked.

Tim decided that this was why Tony was good at his job. He kept prodding when he sensed there was more to know. In this case, Tim wasn't sure he wanted to share some of the things he'd planned for himself. After all, his novel was not a computer science story. It was not science fiction or fantasy. It was nothing that would automatically be associated with a computer science professor.

It was a detective novel, going back to his childhood dream of being just like Nate the Great...and his desire to be the hero.

"Come on, Tim," Tony said, with a wheedling tone. "There's something. I can tell! You've got to tell me!"

Tim took a breath and let it out in a whoosh that hurt a little.

"I...I wrote a book. I was going to try to get it published. I never did."

"A book? Like from your computer stuff?" Tony asked. "That doesn't seem embarrassing at all. Isn't that what people like you–?"

"Not from my research. It's a novel."

Tim chanced a glance at Tony and saw his eyes widen in surprise. Clearly, it had never occurred to him. He smiled a little, almost happy that he could say something that Tony didn't anticipate.

"Science fiction?" Tony asked, after a moment.

Tim shook his head, and then, he saw the light bulb.

"It's a detective story. Isn't it." It wasn't even a question. Tony was sure he knew.

And, of course, he was right.

"Yeah."

"Well... what's it about? Is the hero a computer expert?" Tony asked, looking fascinated.

"No. He's a private detective," Tim said, almost reluctantly. He couldn't imagine that Tony, movie guy that he was, would really be interested in this. Besides, Tim hadn't been writing from personal experience and Tony was a real detective. Surely, he'd scoff at the things Tim wrote.

"Of course, he is. But does he know computers?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. It's just kind of in the background. It's not part of the plot or anything," Tim said.

"You know, a lot of cops aren't so great at the computer stuff and some of us worry about becoming obsolete because of the people who _are_ great at the computer stuff."

"Really?" Tim felt embarrassed for not having thought of something like that. If Tony was talking about it as being common, then...

"So that's cool that you aren't playing to that stereotype," Tony said. "If your guy is just competent with computers and it's not a key feature, then, it'll just be normal."

"Huh?" Tim asked.

"Did you think I was criticizing?" Tony asked.

Tim didn't really answer, and Tony smiled.

"You realize that I'm no literary expert. I'm a movie guy. Even if I _was_ criticizing, what would it matter?"

"You're a cop," Tim said.

"And so I know everything that you should write about cops? Nah. Fiction is fiction. It's not real. If you take some license with it, I don't care. Have you ever watched the shows where they get DNA results in five seconds? It can take us weeks. Besides, I've never been a private detective before. Things may be different for them."

"Oh."

"You've never told anyone about your writing, have you."

Tim shook his head mutely.

"Okay, then, I'll give you a pass on how nervous you are about telling me, but for what it's worth, I think it's great. Why didn't you ever try to publish it?"

"I finished it... just before... all that stuff with John and... I didn't want anyone paying attention to me anymore. If I succeeded... People would see me...and ask questions."

"Well, you should try now."

Tim shook his head.

"I couldn't."

"Why not?" Tony asked, even sounding a little impatient.

"Because now, people are paying attention to me for this stuff and it would look bad, like I was trying to use someone's death to make money. Like I was capitalizing on a crime."

"Well, I'll grant you that much. It might look a little weird if you tried to publish a book so soon after all this came out. Okay. Then, wait a few months and see what you can do. Besides, don't you need an agent or something like that? A publisher?"

"Yeah."

"That probably takes time."

"Yeah."

"Then... you could start right away and still have time to let it all blow over."

"I don't know," Tim said. "It was just something I wrote to see if I could write a story like the ones I loved. I never seriously thought it would get published."

"But you were going to try, right?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Then, you should still try. Even if you don't make it, you'll have tried."

The temptation was there, Tim knew, but he still wasn't sure about it. That ship seemed to have long since sailed. Why even think about it now?

...except that Tony was trying to tell him to do it.

"So... when do you get out?" Tony asked.

"In a couple of days. Probably."

"Well, when you're getting out, give me a call and I'll make sure you get a ride...unless your friend Lewis will give you one."

"Someone will give me a ride."

"Don't you try to get home alone."

Tim furrowed his brow. "Tony, I want to ask you a question, and I know it will seem rude, but I really am just asking."

"Okay."

"Why do you care?" Tim asked. "I mean, the only reason you even know me is because you got curious about a case. I just don't understand why you're...acting like we're friends."

Tony let out a chuckle, but Tim could tell he was surprised by the question.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, finally.

"Well...only in the sense that I don't understand it. I mean... right now, I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You feel guilty about all this," Tim said and waved his hand around the room. "I got shot and you feel bad. I get that, but you were doing this before. You said I'm not boring, but if that's true, I'm not boring in a bad way, not in a good way. Even my shrink is saying that I'm displaying symptoms of PTSD, even if he's not definitively diagnosing that. So... I'm just a messed up guy who got mixed up in the case you were looking at."

"That's where you're wrong, Tim," Tony said.

"What's wrong about it?" Tim asked.

Tony spoke very didactically, as if he was dealing with an eager and yet wanting student.

"You're not just a messed up guy that was part of the case. You weren't that before and you're not that now. Really, you're not _just_ anything. You're interesting! I don't know why you have a hard time believing that, but you are. And any guy who has two full shelves of detective novels on the same bookcase as his computer stuff is interesting. You aren't living up to the computer geek stereotype and I think that's really interesting. As for why I'm acting like we're friends. Well, on my side, I'm not acting. I think we're acquaintances at the least, and if you're interested, I think we could be friends...but I will admit that it feels weird to be discussing it. I usually just make friends and it's kind of unspoken. I have these guys I play basketball with. We play in their church's gym. They were looking for another guy to play and I happened to be around. Now, we're friends. When I got stabbed, one of them even cooked dinner for me just so that it would be easier. No one's ever questioned it before so I don't really know what more to say about it."

There was a pause. Tim didn't know what to say, either.

"So...do you have this discussion every time you make a friend?" Tony asked, finally.

Tim actually felt a little embarrassed. "No...but I've never been friends with a cop before."

"Well, we're just people like anyone else."

"And I've never been friends with a jock before."

"Haven't really been a jock in a long time," Tony said.

"And I'm really kind of stupid," Tim said.

Tony chuckled. "No, you're not. You're _really_ awkward, but you're not stupid."

"And that doesn't throw you off?"

"Nope. Mostly because I know you're not at the top of your game right now. Otherwise, I'd get a little impatient with you continually asking me why I don't think you're boring. It's a little repetitious, and by asking over and over again, you make me feel like you think I'm lying."

"So..."

"Bottom line: I think you're interesting and I always like having more friends. Your choice. ...but no matter what, get _someone_ to take you home when you get released. No taxis."

"Okay."

"Good. Now that we've got that settled, I'm going to go and see if I can do any cooking one-handed...and using my left hand."

"You're right-handed," Tim said.

"Yep. I take it you're not?"

Tim shook his head.

"Well, I knew you weren't trustworthy," Tony said, smiling.

"Huh?"

"I read once that the word _sinister_ comes from the Greek word for left-handed."

"Well, only left-handed people are in their right minds," Tim said, grinning.

"Huh?" Now, it was Tony's turn to be confused.

"The right side of your brain controls the left side of your body."

"Really?"

"That's what I've read."

"Huh. ...well, that's a fun tidbit, but I think I won't share that one as much."

"Yeah, figures. Try to suppress the facts," Tim said.

Tony's smile widened to a grin. "Have to keep _some_ kind of advantage. See ya later."

"Thanks, Tony," Tim said.

"You're welcome."

After Tony left, Tim lay there and thought about Tony's visit and his declaration (which Tim had to admit had been made before) that he'd like to be friends. Somehow, something that would normally seem absolutely ridiculous and impossible had become possible...and something Tim couldn't dismiss. In fact, he was looking forward to Tony's random appearances. They distracted him and while Tony was often a little too enthusiastic, Tim also appreciated his sincerity.

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony managed to make some soup. Not his usual go-to meal, but it was filling and easy to do one-handed. His only difficulty was in chopping the veggies and for that, he did use his right hand to hold them while he wielded the knife a little awkwardly with his left.

Then, after his dinner, he sat down on the couch and tried to decide what to watch.

As he sat, looking at his DVDs, there was a knock on the door. Tony's brow furrowed. He wasn't expecting anyone tonight.

For a moment, he was a little nervous, but he walked quietly to the door and checked through the peephole. He was more than a little surprised, but he also smiled and opened the door.

"What brings you here, Ron?" he asked.

"How's your arm?"

"Getting better. I'll be glad when I can stop wearing the sling."

Tony stepped aside and let Ron come in.

"Any problems with Blaser?"

"Nope. He's going to sing. Right now, he's holding it in, but once he knows how much we have on him, he'll tell us everything he knows and hope that he doesn't have to be with a general prison population."

"He deserves it."

Ron actually smiled a little.

"Yeah, but getting what he knows is more important. A deal doesn't mean he's not going to prison."

"I know."

"Anyway, I heard you had _The Blob_. The original."

"Steve McQueen in his twenties, playing a teenager," Tony said, with a grin.

"Sounds great."

"I'll start it up. You want popcorn?"

"Only if it's not the stuff in bags."

"So picky, Ron."

"Yep. About popcorn."

Tony laughed. "Well, I only have the stuff in bags."

"Then, I'll pass."

"That's easy."

He pulled the movie from its place of honor on his B-movie shelf and got it going. Then, he sat down by Ron and thought about how bizarre it was that he was currently watching an old movie with someone he would have sworn he hated not long ago.

Then, he decided he didn't care and just enjoyed the movie.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Lewis ended up taking Tim home from the hospital after two more days. Tim was still hurting and moving very carefully, but his doctor had said that he would be fine if he gave himself time. Plus, his therapist had set up regular appointments for the next few weeks and Tim knew that he needed the help, so he didn't try to protest beyond the physical effort it would take to get to the office.

With everything that had happened, everything he'd had to do and all the emotional roller coasters he'd been on the last few weeks, Tim was thrilled to be back in his own home, in his own bed and he slept _very_ well that first night back. In fact, he slept through the night and well into the next morning without waking even once. The pain killers might have had something to do with it, but Tim had been so anxious and tense that being able to let that go, even a little bit, meant he could also get to sleep more easily.

Lewis had promised to bring him dinner and had also made _Tim_ promise to come over for dinner when he felt up to it.

All in all, Tim's arrival at home was probably as good as it could have been.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony got out of the taxi, annoyed that he still couldn't drive because his arm was in a sling. He was glad for the continued time off, although he had to have some interviews, both with the FBI _and_ with the head of his district. The internal affairs investigation was already looking at Archer, but Tony had killed a man, and even if he was a criminal who had been prepared to fire on Sacks, there was a need to look into it. He'd be glad when this part was done. Killing Archer had been justified. No matter how much the guy had deserved it, Tony knew that he wouldn't have fired if Archer hadn't attacked.

He sighed and tried to push that thought away. Instead, he walked into Tim's building and prepared to call up to his apartment, wondering how long it would take for Tim to answer. The last few times, it had taken a while because of how shaky Tim had been. So what would happen this time?

He called.

And waited.

Then, there was an answer.

"_Yes?"_

"Hey, Tim. It's Tony. Can I come up?"

"_Sure."_

The door buzzed open and Tony went up, now wondering what Tim would be like. There had been a delay but not a long one, and Tim hadn't said much but he hadn't hesitated.

Well, nothing to do but see what he could see, and he couldn't see anything if he just stood around like a bump on a log. So Tony took the elevator up and walked to Tim's apartment and knocked. It took a little bit, but the locks turned without the feeling of reluctance Tony had come to expect.

When the door finally opened, Tony could see that Tim still wasn't fully recovered physically. Not mentally, either, but he still looked pale and he was obviously moving carefully.

However, there was one difference.

When he saw Tony, he smiled and stood back.

"Hey," he said.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asked.

"Not stellar," Tim said and closed the door.

Tony noticed that Tim put back on all the locks, but at the same time, there wasn't the same sense of urgency to do it. He decided not to point it out. Tim probably didn't need that attention at this point.

Tim walked over to a chair and sat down carefully.

"Computer still on the counter, huh?" Tony asked.

"Not allowed to do any heavy lifting," Tim said. "...and I don't _want_ to do any heavy lifting, actually."

"I know the feeling," Tony said. "But I will admit that I'm at the point where I wish my doctor wouldn't tell me not to do any heavy lifting."

Tim smiled a little and visibly relaxed from the effort of standing and walking.

"You're taking pain medication, aren't you?" Tony asked, furrowing his brow a little.

"Yeah. But I have to have lower doses. I don't react well to most prescription pain killers. They make me feel so sick that the last time I had them, I just stopped taking it long before I was supposed to because I couldn't deal with it. So now that I'm home, not on an IV, I need to just take it easy. Practice breathing deeply so that I don't get some kind of pneumonia. Stuff like that."

"And...what about other stuff?" Tony asked.

Tim opened his eyes and looked confused.

"Huh?"

"You still seeing the shrink?"

"Oh..." Tim looked down, seeming a bit embarrassed. "Yeah. Actually, Dr. Torngren is coming here."

"You're getting house visits? Really?"

"Yeah."

"How did you rate?"

Tim smiled a little. "Well, it's not the norm. Only for now when it's hard for me to get around and I'm still..."

"Don't say you're stupid because we both know you're not," Tony said, quickly.

"Do we?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Tony said, firmly. "Psychological trauma is not stupid."

Tim looked up. "I wasn't always like this, you know," he said. "I used to be... normal...but..."

"Hey, I don't care about that. I care that you're getting better, and that you don't feel as terrible as you were before."

"Mostly... I'm still working on it."

"Good. Working on it is good."

"Yeah... maybe."

"No. It is. Now, I have an ulterior motive in coming."

Tim shook his head. "I'm not even turning on my computer right now, Tony."

"No. Nothing to do with that. I'm taking some time off. Real time off."

"Oh. So... what?"

Tony pulled out a DVD and was secretly happy to see the surprise on Tim's face when he realized it was _The Moonstone_.

"I want to know what's so special about this story."

"You can read the book. You could probably find a free copy somewhere. It's 150 years old."

"I'm a movie guy, not a book guy, but I noticed that you had a fancy copy of this book on your shelf. I've never heard of it or the author...but it turns out that there are multiple movie versions. There was even one from 1934, but I chose the 1996 version."

"Never seen any movie version. It can't be as good as the book, you know," Tim said.

"Ah, you book people always say that, but it's not true."

"_The Moonstone_ is the first detective story ever written," Tim said.

"What about Sherlock Holmes?"

"Nope. It's earlier. And it's told in a way that can't be captured on film."

"You saying you don't want to watch it?" Tony asked, almost worried that Tim would say yes.

Tim smiled a little. "No, but it won't be as good as the book. Even if the movie is good, it won't be _as_ good. It can't be."

Tony smiled back. "Well, of course you'll think that if you go into it that way. You have to give it a real chance!"

Tim looked tired, but he smiled.

"Okay, okay. We can watch it. I might have popcorn, but it's just the stuff in bags."

"Ah. A man after my own heart. Ron is too picky."

Tim looked surprised. Tony grinned.

"Turns out that he likes old cheesy movies."

"So... you don't hate each other, then?"

"Guess not. But he's way too picky about his popcorn."

"There's popcorn and there's popcorn," Tim said. "I like the good stuff, but I'll take the cheap stuff, too."

Tony got up and walked to the kitchen.

"Where would it be if you have it?"

"In a cupboard," Tim said.

"Helpful."

"I haven't had popcorn in a while."

"Does that mean it's going to be nasty?"

"I don't think so."

Tony started opening cupboards, noting that Tim seemed to be running low on a few things. Given his current energy levels, he figured that Tim wasn't going to be going shopping at the moment, but he also wondered if Tim would really appreciate someone doing his shopping for him. He decided to play it by ear.

Finally, he spied a bag of popcorn. The expiration date was still a few months away, so he put it in the microwave and then walked back to where Tim was still sitting.

"So what is it about this movie?" Tony asked.

"Book."

"Fine. Book. What is it that makes it so special to you?"

"What makes you think it's special?" Tim asked.

"Well, you've got all those books, but that's the only one that looks fancy. The others are well read."

"So is that one," Tim said. "I've read _The Moonstone_ dozens of times."

"Then, you're really careful with that copy because it doesn't show that same wear."

Tim took a deep breath, winced and then exhaled.

"You're probably a pretty good detective, aren't you."

Tony smiled. "I'm nosy."

"It's one of the first books that I remember discovering. Most of the books from when I was a kid were just in the library and I kind of got guided to them. This was one that was different."

"So how did you discover it, then?" Tony asked.

"Well... my sister is a lot younger than I am. I was a teenager and she was still a kid, watching PBS. Once, I came in and she was watching this show. Called _Wishbone_."

"Never heard of it," Tony said. "But I'm an only child."

"Yeah, and it was after my time, too. It's a kid show, meant to introduce younger kids to literature."

"So...books. Like _Reading Rainbow_?"

"Not exactly. Wishbone is a dog. The show is set around this dog watching as his master has different problems...and then, saying that the problem reminded him of some story. And he tells the story...with himself as the main character."

"Wait... like you mean the _dog_ is the main character?"

"Yeah," Tim said, looking a little embarrassed.

"What kinds of stories?"

"Lots of classics. _Pride and Prejudice_, some Hindu mythology, stuff like that. And one day, when she was watching it, they told the story of _The Moonstone_. I'd never heard of it. It sounded fascinating and so I went to the library and found out that they had a copy. I checked it, read it in maybe two days and decided I needed my own copy."

"And the rest is history?" Tony suggested.

"Well, it's not that significant, but it's one of my favorite books."

"Sounds like it's significant for you."

Tim shrugged.

Then, the microwave beeped and Tony walked over to get the popcorn.

"There a bowl?"

"Lower cabinet in the counter where the computer is."

Tony found a large-ish bowl and dumped the popcorn into it. Ron could scoff at it all he wanted, but sometimes, this kind of popcorn was just what the doctor ordered, and he was seeing more and more that his choice of movie had been a good one...even if it ended up not being so great. This really did matter to Tim and he needed something simple like this.

Tony carried the popcorn over to the couch and started the movie going. Tim got up and shifted himself over to the couch. Tony scooted over so that there was room and then set the bowl between them. Tim did take some of the popcorn, but Tony ended up eating most of it himself.

For Tony's taste, the movie had kind of a slow start and it wasn't the kind of movie he typically watched. There was very little actual violence in the film, a lot more subtleties than he had expected. About halfway through, he turned to say as much to Tim and saw that Tim had fallen asleep.

Not unexpected, really. Not at this point in his recovery. So Tony turned off the movie, carried the bowl of popcorn back into the kitchen, and then, in a nod to what Tim had done when _he_ had fallen asleep, he wrote a short note and set it on the couch, just so that Tim knew he had left.

The movie may not be his favorite, but he felt like he was getting to know Tim by watching it because this was something that meant a lot to him.

In fact, once he left and got back home, he did a search and found that, yes, he could download the entire book for free. He did and started reading.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up and it was getting dim in his apartment. He sat up and winced and then looked around. It appeared that Tony was gone. Then, he noticed the note. He picked it up.

_Hey, Tim. I stopped the movie when I noticed you were asleep. I'm assuming it didn't bore you, so let me know when you're ready to watch the rest. I let myself out. If you need anything, you can call me. As long as it's not heavy lifting, I'll do it._

_Tony_

Tim knew that he should have tried harder to stay awake, but every time he relaxed, he fell asleep. At least, that was what it felt like. However, right now, it was getting late in the evening and he had promised his doctor that he would not miss a meal, even if the meal ended up being small.

With a groan, he pulled himself off the couch and walked to the kitchen. He stared at his cupboards. They were getting a little bare. He needed to go shopping, but he didn't feel like he could. While he had no doubt that Tony had been sincere in offering to help, when he was injured himself, there was no way that Tim would call on him to do something physical.

What did surprise him, though, was that he wasn't completely dismissing the idea of calling on Tony if he did need help. He knew that it probably seemed strange to Tony that he was so weirded out by this friendship that seemed to have arisen out of nowhere, but he really didn't know how to explain why it was so different. Tony didn't seem to realize the significance of Tim not only trusting him but also seeking him out for any reason at all.

It wasn't about Tony being a jock. It wasn't about him being a cop even, not completely. It was that, for the last year, Tim had been so afraid of people that he had avoided anyone he didn't know. He had avoided making new friends. He had avoided even some of his old friends. He had cut himself off from everyone he could in an effort to be safe. Doing that had become so automatic for him that _not_ doing it and being aware of it was causing him some worry.

He was still standing there, staring at his cupboards.

Well, he couldn't bring himself to call Tony, but he had promised more than one person to call when he needed help.

He needed help.

Tim walked back to his chair and sat down with relief. Then, he picked up his phone and dialed.

"_Tim, what's up? You okay?"_ Lewis asked as soon as he connected.

"Barely okay, but yeah," Tim said.

"_Do you need something?"_

"Yeah."

"_What?"_

"I'm... running low on... groceries." He hated having to say that. It was the lowest of the low that he couldn't even bring himself to go to the store, although it was at least physical weakness causing it this time.

"_And you're actually asking?"_

Tim smiled. "I promised I would."

"_I know, but I didn't think you'd actually carry through on it."_

"Well, it was either call you or call Tony."

"_Who?"_

"Tony DiNozzo. He's the cop I was working with."

"_What? Why him?"_

"I think... he might be a friend."

"_You think?"_

"Well... I don't know yet, but he's been keeping me company a lot lately and you know that I'm not the best company. He saw me through a few meltdowns and he still says that I'm not annoying and that I'm interesting."

"_Well, far be it from me to discourage you to actually talk to other people, but I'll admit that I'm surprised it's a cop you're befriending. By the way, the word cop as something to refer to police comes from the longer _copper_ which was criminal slang back in 1846. The shortened form comes from around 1859."_

"How about _shrink_ to refer to a psychiatrist?" Tim asked, figuring that Lewis wouldn't have had any reason to look that up.

"_I don't know, but I will by the time Janice and I come by with your groceries. And you know Janice will insist on cooking for you."_

"She doesn't have to."

"_Of course she doesn't, but that won't stop her."_

"I know," Tim said, and really that sounded wonderful. "But remind her that I'm not ready for big heavy meals right now."

"_Got it. Tim... you may not feel that way, but you already sound better than you were."_

"I'm... a little better."

"_Better is better. We'll be over."_

"Thanks."

"_Anytime. And I do mean that."_

"I know. Thanks. Bye."

Tim hung up and then leaned back. He really shouldn't let himself go back to sleep when he knew that Lewis and Janice were coming over, but he was still tired. He just lay his phone on his lap so that he'd feel the vibration as well as hear the sound when they got there and then let his eyes close.

His last thought was the realization that he had every intention of calling Tony to finish watching the movie when he might actually stay awake.

It was a strange realization.

But then, he fell asleep.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

"Tony, I already told you how long you needed to give your arm to heal. If you want to regain normal function, you'll listen to me," Dr. Haeckel said, firmly. "You already lucked out once since you didn't retear the muscles when you tore your stitches. I'm serious about this. Give yourself another week. And when you go back, no heavy lifting, no major strain to your arm. If you aggravate it, you may never heal."

Tony sighed. He had known what his doctor would say...since he'd already said it more than once. He'd just hoped that it might have changed, that maybe he would have healed faster.

"Hey, I get it," Dr. Haeckel said. "I know you hate having to take the time you need. I even know that you worry a little bit about being replaced."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"I'm observant, and you're hardly the first one to feel that way."

Tony looked down at his arm, free of the splint and the bandages just for a moment. It still looked pretty nasty and he could even admit that his arm definitely didn't feel normal at the moment. Then, he looked up again.

"A week?"

"No less. That's not going to change...unless it's longer because you won't listen to medical advice."

"I hear you."

"Good. How's the pain?"

"Not bad."

Dr. Haeckel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Honest. I've done what you said and it really hasn't been hurting much. I want to get off the painkillers sooner rather than later."

"I don't blame you, but just follow the schedule I gave you. That will help you get off them the right way."

"Okay."

"Now, I'll send Lisa in to replace the bandage. Everything is healing, Tony. Let it."

Tony nodded, reluctantly. It was so frustrating to hear he had to let his arm heal. He just wanted it to get better right away. He didn't like leaving things the way they were at work. He and Clark had worked things out, but he hadn't seen anyone else since killing Archer and Blaser's arrest.

The nurse came in and Tony submitted to being re-bandaged and re-splinted.

"Looking good, detective," Lisa said.

Tony grinned flirtatiously.

"Rein yourself in," Lisa said. "My boyfriend would be very jealous."

"Shucks. Why are the good ones always taken?" Tony said, pouting.

"Should have moved faster, I guess. Now, your _arm_ is looking good. I think that the next time you come in, we'll be able to take out the stitches...as long as you don't tear them again. I don't like seeing my handiwork ruined. So don't screw that up, please."

"I'll remember that."

"Good. You're free to go."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She swatted him on this uninjured arm.

"Oh, get out of here, detective."

Tony chuckled and left the office. He still wasn't happy that his arm didn't seem to be healing up any faster, but he still had another week before he had permission to go back to work. He wrinkled his nose a little. As much as he sought out vacations and such, he still liked to have the _option_ of working. Enforced downtime wasn't his favorite thing in the world.

As if it had been waiting for him to be done with his appointment, his phone rang. He saw _Travers_ listed and grimaced. He didn't really want to talk to his boss.

He took a breath and answered.

"DiNozzo."

"_This is Travers."_

"How's the investigation going, sir?" Tony asked, trying to be respectful.

"_How's the arm?"_

"As good as the investigation?" Tony suggested, a little hesitantly. "My doctor is absolutely forbidding me to come back to work until next week. And even then, he's saying limited use only."

"_Sounds about right."_

"Sir... is there going to be a problem with me coming back to work?"

"_Because of Archer?"_

"Yeah."

"_Only because most of the people here are going to be kicking themselves for not seeing that Archer was dirty."_

"Do they actually believe it?"

"_Yeah. Deep down, they all know. Up front..."_

"Denying it."

"_A little bit. It's going to be touchy for a while. We're all under more scrutiny because of it. If you want to come back, just be ready for that."_

"I do."

"_Okay. Then, here's what I want from you, DiNozzo."_

"What?"

"_Your word that, if I'm wrong and some here are resenting you for taking down another cop... you'll tell me. I don't want another Benedict on my hands. John was hard to lose after twenty years on the force. To lose him to his own partner..."_ Travers paused and then swore under his breath. _"I'm under the gun because I didn't take Archer to task like I should have. I can admit it. I thought I was giving a guy who was mourning a break. I didn't think I was helping a murderer get away with a planned assault."_

"You agree that he'd planned it?" Tony asked, surprised.

"_You think so, too?"_

"I watched the interrogation a few weeks ago. That was my conclusion. I told Clark as much."

"_Yeah. I think I let it go because I was thinking about John's death more than anything else. When I watched it last week... I can't believe I let it go the way I did."_ Then, Travers cleared his throat and was back to business. _"I mean it, DiNozzo. You tell me if there's even a _hint_ of someone wanting revenge. We're not doing this again."_

"Understood."

"_Good. Then, when you come back, we'll make sure that we do it right this time around."_

"Okay."

Tony's phone beeped signaling another call. He looked and saw that it was Tim's number. He smiled but let it go to voicemail.

"_What are you going to do with your time?"_

"Today... I think I'm going to be watching a movie."

"_Good idea. Report to me first thing when you come back next week."_

"Will do."

"_Good."_

Travers hung up abruptly and Tony let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure of his welcome, but Clark was okay and Travers was okay. If the others were still on edge? Well, he could manage that so long as things eased up over time.

For now, he listened to his voicemail.

"_Tony, I think I might be ready to... finish the movie."_

That was all. Tim really needed to work on his messages.

"Maybe it's just me."

Tony knew that Tim was still a little uncertain about this whole thing. He was choosing to look at it as just an indication of his worry about cops and not something personal.

He called back.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Tim. It's Tony."

"_Oh. Hi."_

"Sorry I didn't answer. I was talking to my boss. Couldn't very well hang up on him."

"_A-Are you in trouble?"_

"Nope. He was mostly just checking on me," Tony said, knowing that Tim's opinion of Travers might not be the best.

"_Good. Um... I might be able to stay awake for the rest of the movie."_

Tony grinned. "So it didn't bore you, then?"

"_No! No, I just..."_

"Tim, don't worry so much. I was just kidding."

There was a pause and an exhale.

"_I used to have a sense of humor. I promise."_

Tony outright laughed at that.

"Tim, don't worry. I probably wouldn't get your jokes anyway. They'd all be science-y things and it's been a long time since I was in a science class."

"_I know other jokes, too!"_

Tony smiled. That sounded more normal, less worried.

"Then, you can try them out on me some time. I'll be over in a few."

"_Okay. Bye."_

"Bye."

Tony called for a cab and headed over to Tim's place. As he rode, his phone rang again.

_I'm way too popular today,_ he thought and answered.

"DiNozzo."

"_Tony, it's Sam. You up for visitors, tonight?"_

Tony grinned. "Are you cooking?"

"_Well, my wife is, but she didn't want you to strain yourself, so she's making me strain _my_self and carry stuff over to you."_

Tony looked at his watch. It wasn't even quite noon yet. He could be home by dinnertime.

"Are you guys going to eat with me or force me to eat alone?"

Sam laughed. _"If it would make the meal more pleasant, we'll be happy to eat with you."_

"Definitely. Company is... _almost _always better than solitude."

Having said that, Tony had a sudden thought. Would Tim be up to going anywhere at this point? He sure wasn't before, but it had been a couple of days.

"Hey, Sam, I have a friend who is, coincidentally, also recovering from an injury. I don't know if he'd feel up to it, but if he does, would you mind having dinner for four?"

"_Not at all. Theresa was going to make you enough for days anyway."_

"Sounds great. Whatever it is, it sounds great. ...unless you guys have become vegan in the last few days."

"_Not a chance. With Theresa's parents being cattle ranchers, I think I'd be forced to divorce her if I even suggested it."_

"Good. Then, you're welcome to come and bring me food. Six-thirty okay for you or do your kids need to get to bed?"

"_If you were open to it, we were going to get a babysitter and celebrate adult conversation for an evening."_

"I wouldn't guarantee that."

"_Ha. You're way more mature than you pretend to be."_

"Thanks. I think."

"_You're welcome. See you this evening."_

"Okay. Bye."

Another conversation finished and Tony arrived at Tim's place. He walked in and called up.

"Hey, Tim. It's Tony."

"_Okay."_

The door buzzed open and Tony went up to the fourteenth floor once again, still thinking that this just didn't seem like the kind of place Tim would normally be living in. He knocked and heard the three locks opening, but it was happening quickly. So there was that.

Tim opened the door, not looking a whole lot better than before, but seeming more alert than before.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Tim said. "Not wonderful, but okay."

"We don't _have_ to watch this, you know," Tony said.

"It's better to be doing _something_, even watch a movie than it is to sit around and wish that the guy had either missed completely or been a better shot," Tim said, wincing. "There's only so much that stuff like naproxen and ibuprofen can do."

Tony smiled a little, but he didn't like seeing Tim in pain simply because regular painkillers weren't effective for him.

"Have you thought about trying some of the... alternative stuff?"

"No snake oil for me, thanks," Tim said as he sat down. "Half of those things are nothing. The other half are poison."

"No, I mean like... acupuncture type of stuff. Not scams just alternative."

"I haven't. I read about it once and there's just not a whole lot of actual research that's been done on whether or not it's effective." Tim took a slow, deep breath and let it out equally slowly. "I don't like the idea of letting someone who may or may not know what they're doing stick needles into me."

"Put that way, I can see why that might be off-putting. But you said that you knew what painkillers did before."

Tim nodded. "Yeah. I broke my leg when I was sixteen. I felt even worse with the painkillers than I did about being in traction. They did put me to sleep, though."

Something about the way Tim said that told Tony that there was more to the story, but he decided not to ask for details.

"It's not as bad as it was," Tim said. "I'm just not used to being shot, I guess." He smiled a little.

Tony felt a pang, knowing that Tim's pain was due to his need to do something right.

"You never get used to that," he said. "And I'm still sorry that you felt you had to do something about it."

Tim shrugged and shifted a pillow around to support his injured side.

"I couldn't let you get shot," he said.

"I know, but if you had just called out and warned me."

"I couldn't think like that," Tim said.

"I know, and I'm really sorry about that."

Tim took another slow, deep breath and let it out. Then, he smiled.

"Let's just finish the movie," he said.

Tony smiled at the obvious attempt to change the subject.

"Okay. What's the last part you saw?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "Just start it where you think it's right."

"So you weren't paying attention."

"I was, but I know this story backwards and forwards," Tim said. "I don't know if I'm remembering the movie or something from the book."

"You're pretty good at avoiding the issue," Tony said, "but I'll take pity on you and just start the movie."

"Good."

Tony got the movie going and didn't suggest popcorn this time. Instead, they just watched the rest of the movie. Tim's eyes got heavy-lidded, but they didn't ever truly close. But as twist after twist showed up in the plot, even Tony was impressed at how complicated everything was. But it was complicated in an interesting way. What had begun as seeming to be a boring love story that Tony couldn't figure out how it was going to be interesting even to someone like Tim was suddenly becoming intriguing and he found that he didn't check on Tim as often as he had been.

He was too interested in the movie.

When the final twist (or what Tony _thought_ was the final twist) was revealed, he was genuinely shocked by it.

"Oh!" he said aloud.

"Got you, didn't it," Tim said softly.

Tony looked over and saw Tim smiling.

"Is the book like this, then?"

"Better."

"Of course. But is it?"

Tim nodded. "But the story isn't over yet."

"Well, yeah. Where is the Moonstone?"

"Exactly."

"And?"

"The movie's not over yet," Tim said.

"You won't tell me?"

"Don't want to spoil it."

"Okay, okay."

Tony turned back to the movie and let it continue to the final reveal. It was good, but not as good as the other one had been. This one was more mundane, slightly surprising, but not as shocking.

"Very clever," he said as the final credits rolled.

Tim nodded. "That was better than the _Wishbone_ version."

Tony laughed. "Well, I'd _hope_ so."

"It was."

"Good. Now, I have a question."

"No, it's not as good as the book," Tim said, but he smiled.

"I'll bet it is, but you'd never admit it. No, that wasn't it. I have a friend who's decided to make me dinner tonight. Do you want to join us?"

Tony was unsurprised when Tim shook his head. He didn't look like he wanted to do anything that required substantial movement, and perhaps this wasn't the best time to get him meeting other people.

"Okay. I didn't think you'd feel up to it, but I wanted to ask."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Lewis and his wife have come by to check on me every evening. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

Tony looked over at the counter.

"The computer's still there."

Tim roused himself enough to sit up and look at the computer. He nodded.

"I want to do it myself...when I can."

"Why?"

Tim shrugged and winced a little.

"I just want to. I need to sort through the components, decide what to do with all the pieces. Agent Sacks said that the FBI would want to take the originals and I'm fine with that."

"When did he say that?"

"When he came by yesterday to check on me and let me know how things were going. He said that he'd be the one to take it, but he'd probably screw something up and so he was going to bring the expert over to make sure everything went right."

"Huh."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "What's so strange about that?"

"Nothing except that you seem to be pretty accepting of it."

Tim reddened a little.

"He's helped me, too."

"Yeah, he has."

Then, there was that mischievous glint in Tim's eye that Tony had only seen one other time.

"Maybe I'll ask him to bring real popcorn over with him."

"Ha. He wouldn't know real popcorn if..." Then, he realized what Tim was doing and he wagged his finger at him. "Hey! None of that!"

"You made it really easy, you know," Tim said.

"You shouldn't take advantage of it."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, but I'll think of something."

"I'm sure you will. For now, I need a nap. I don't want to kick you out or anything, but..."

"But you're still recovering. I get it. No worries. Just tell me if you need anything that doesn't require heavy lifting."

"I will."

Tony could see that Tim actually meant it...and that was momentous, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he got the movie and prepared to leave. As he did, he paused, feeling suddenly serious.

"You like the view any better?" he asked.

Tim looked at him and then at the window.

"The view has always been good...when I remembered it was there."

"And do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Better than never."

"Yeah."

Then, Tony left, happy to see even a little progress.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After Tony left, Tim forced himself to his feet. The pain was bad but really, it was a lot better than it had been. At least he didn't have the full-body aching he'd had right after his surgery. Now, it was just the injury itself that hurt. It was better. It just wasn't great. The IV stuff in hospital had been fine, but he couldn't have the IV out here. He decided to go and take a nap until the next person showed up.

But as he started back to his bedroom, he stopped at the window and looked out, beyond the glass. He was almost surprised to realize that it was a sunny afternoon. Time was mostly passing in dollops for him at the moment, but the view out his windows was great. The Inner Harbor sparkled and the buildings of downtown provided good framing for it. He still liked the view and didn't think he'd ever tire of that part of living here, even if he ended up moving at some point.

Finally, he decided it was time to get to his bed and nap. He took his prescription-strength ibuprofen and then went to bed, knowing that he'd have someone waking him up before the day was over and keeping him from just sleeping his life away.

Part of him wanted to stay awake and think some more, but most of him just wanted to shut down and that was the part he was listening to.

It was time to sleep.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Over the next few days, Tim was relieved to find that he was genuinely starting to feel better. The pain lessened to the point that the painkillers he could handle were enough to keep it in check. The pain wasn't _gone_, but it was much more manageable and that was a good thing.

In fact, he was healed to the point that he could think about something other than how little he was going to have to move. That meant that he could start thinking about his job again. More importantly, he could think about the _people_ impacted by his job. First and foremost on his mind was Jason. He felt terrible that the chaos of his own life had likely caused some chaos in Jason's life as well.

But at the same time, even with that, Tim was still feeling very leery about going outside, about confronting the world that had not been so kind to him of late.

He had always felt safe in his office, but as Danielle had said to him just a few weeks before, he had to be able to _get_ there.

Tim knew that his doctor would be ambivalent about his desire to do things just yet, but at the same time, it was good that he _wanted_ to.

But he still didn't feel like he could leave his apartment without help.

And he knew someone who would help if he asked, but he wasn't sure he wanted to do that. Actually, a few people would, but many of them were likely to be busy. One person wasn't.

_But maybe he would be. Maybe he really doesn't care. Maybe he's relieved to be done with my stupidity._

Tim still had a hard time believing that people wanted him around, but logically, he knew that there had been plenty of opportunities to drop him and it hadn't happened yet.

Finally, he took a deep breath (and winced a little) and then pulled out his phone and dialed.

"_Hey, Tim. What's up?"_ Tony asked.

"Hi."

"_You always sound like you're speaking to me against your will, Tim."_

"No! That's... That's not..." The last thing Tim wanted to do was insult Tony, particularly since he was calling to ask for help, something that already made him more than a little uncomfortable.

"_Tim?"_

"Yeah?"

"_Take a breath and calm down."_

"I'm ca–... No, I'm not. I'm stupid," Tim said, with a sigh. He was so irritated with how he kept reacting to things.

"_Tim?"_

"Yeah?"

"_You're not stupid. What's going on?"_

"Yeah, I am stupid. But... well, I want to go to my office, but..."

"_I'm not driving yet, either, you know."_

"I know. That's not what I was going to ask."

"_Sorry. I'll let you say it."_

Tim wasn't sure whether or not he was glad of being given the chance to complete his thought.

He took another breath.

"_Well?"_

"I don't know..." Tim paused, embarrassed, but then, Tony had seen him having a full-blown meltdown. He didn't know why he thought this could possibly be worse. "I don't know if I can go... outside by myself." He said the last words in a rush, just wanting to get them out.

There was silence and Tim felt like he had to fill it.

"I know I should be able to. I know there's no danger now. I know I was going outside before, but I just don't... and even if I _can_ handle it, I don't know if I _want_ to try right now and..."

"_Tim. Stop."_

"What?"

"_You're asking me to come with you to your office."_

"Yeah. I know. It's..."

"_No. Don't say it again. It's not true. And I'm flattered."_

"Huh?" Of all the reactions Tim had imagined to this request, _flattered_ had not even occurred to him.

"_I said I'm flattered."_

"Why?"

"_Because you need help and you're asking me to help you."_

"So?"

"_So I wouldn't have thought I'd be the person you'd choose for this. You have other friends."_

"Yeah."

"_Why me?"_

"Because... a lot of my friends are working. And you still have time off, and you've complained about having nothing to do. ...and besides, how much worse could your opinion of me really get?"

"_I don't have a bad opinion of you, Tim. I don't know if you've noticed it, but you were the hero in this case."_

"No, I'm not."

"_Yes, you are. In spite of the odds, in spite of your own problems, you still helped find the bad guys and take them down. And in the midst of that, you saved my life. So yeah, you're the hero whether you like it or not."_

"But..."

"_Nope. Accept it. And I'll be over in a few minutes to help you take that next step. Glad to help and have something to do."_

"Um...okay. Thanks."

"_You're welcome."_

They hung up and Tim sat down to rest. He had to get out of his home. He couldn't stay here for the rest of his life and the longer he stayed, the more likely it would be that he'd _never_ leave.

After a few minutes, there was a call. Probably Tony. Tim answered.

"_Hey, Tim. You want me to come up and get you?"_

Tim reddened, even though Tony wasn't there, but he knew what the answer was.

"Yeah."

"_Okay. Buzz me in and I'll be right up."_

Tim did and then waited for Tony to come. There was a knock on the door and he took a breath and let it out loudly. Then, braced himself and walked over to the door, removed the locks and opened it.

"You want me to come in or do you just want to go out?" Tony asked.

Tim appreciated that he was being so practical about it when this was utterly ridiculous and unnecessary. Tim knew it. Tony knew it. They were both just not saying it.

"No. Let's just go."

"Okay. The taxi is waiting downstairs."

"Okay."

Tim stepped out into the hallway for the first time in days. Another deep breath and then he felt Tony's hand on his back, gently propelling him forward toward the elevator. He didn't really resist. This had been his idea after all.

...but he walked quite slowly.

To his credit, Tony didn't try to make him walk fast. He just made him walk. They got on the elevator and rode it down. Tim stopped at the door that would lead him outside.

"No one is out there," he said, softly.

"Well, lots of people are out there, but no one who wants to hurt you."

"I know you're right. I really do want to leave," Tim said.

"Good. Let's go."

Another gentle push forward and Tim opened the door, stepping out into the open air. The taxi was there, waiting for them. Tim got in after Tony and let Tony give the address. He was feeling a little shaky.

A lot shaky.

Tony didn't say much, but he sat there, his hand on Tim's shoulder, as if silently reminding him that he wasn't facing this alone.

They got to the computer science building and Tony silently urged him out of the cab. Tim hesitated and then nodded. Campus had always been his sanctuary. Once he was there.

He got out of the cab and then walked toward the main entrance.

"Do you want to just go inside or be out for a while?" Tony asked.

"Inside," Tim said, barely pausing in his stride.

"Okay."

Tim walked into the building and headed straight for his office, barely remembering that Tony was there, but at the same time, relying on the fact that he _was_ there.

He got to his office, opened the door and was moderately surprised to find everything exactly as he had left it what felt like years before but was really only about three weeks. He smiled and sat down at his computer.

"You look happy, Tim," Tony said.

Tim looked back at him.

"I like my office." Words couldn't really describe why this was so wonderful to him.

"I can tell," Tony said. "Tell me why."

"I don't think I could."

"Try...but first tell me why you have a nice padded chair covered with paper and this old, uncomfortable hard chair open to sit on. Seems backwards."

Tim was surprised at how much he felt like smiling in that moment. In fact, he grinned.

"If I don't want students to stay long, I have them sit on the hard chair. Usually, they're complaining about something and they don't really want to stay long anyway. They just want a better grade or an easy A. If the chair is uncomfortable, I can usually get them out faster. If it's a student who has a genuine question, I'll clear off the padded chair and let them be comfortable."

Tony looked at him with an eyebrow raised. Then, he looked back at the chairs and deliberately moved the pile of paper from the padded chair to the hard chair. He sat down.

On the padded chair.

"Okay. I have a genuine question. Now, I'm comfy. Why?"

"It's my space. My computer is here. Everything that's in here is good. It's my job. It's the things I'm good at. I know that I belong here. It's what I've always wanted."

"Do you just work here?"

"Mostly. I have..." Tim blushed.

"What?"

"I have a... a few books that I'll read here sometimes."

"Oh, let me see if I can guess which books you're embarrassed about."

Tony started scanning the shelves. Tim wondered if he'd find them. If his students had ever noticed them, they'd never said anything. His colleagues had definitely never noticed them because they'd have asked. Not even Lewis had seen them.

Perhaps it was just because Tony was trained to notice the fine details, but he suddenly grinned and pointed.

_Nate the Great Stalks the Stupidweed_.

"Found one."

Then, he kept looking. ...and pointed again.

_Encyclopedia Brown, Boy Detective_.

"Found another."

_The Yellow House Mystery_.

"And another." Tony looked at Tim. "How many are there?"

Tim smiled. "I'm not telling."

"Well, I don't want to just sit here in silence, looking through your books. Why the kids stories?"

"They're smaller and less noticeable," Tim said.

"That's it?"

"I also can read them in one sitting if I want to...and I won't be neglecting my work for very long."

"Do you ever think of the fun part first instead of the practical part?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you must like these books if you have them here to read."

"Of course," Tim said, not sure where Tony was going with this.

"Well, why don't you say that?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that obvious? Shouldn't it go without saying that I have books I like?"

"But you do that all the time."

"All the time?" Tim repeated. "You've known me for like a month."

"Sure, but every time I've asked about something you enjoy, you never start with why you like it. You start with practical stuff. Why is that?"

"You're looking way too deeply into this, Tony," Tim said. "I like being here. It's my office. It's my job. And I have some books I like hidden on my shelves. Why does there have to be something big and exciting about it? I told you I'm boring."

"But you're not!" Tony said. "You're really not. You're interesting, but you keep avoiding the really interesting stuff as if you're ashamed of it."

"Tony, you're asking me to tell you everything about my life when I've only known you for a month and in that time, I've spent most of it falling apart. I mean, I get that you're interested, although I really can't see why, but you're asking... more than I can give you. I just don't... talk about myself like that. I never have. You can ask Lewis, if you want, and I've known him for years. I just don't... do that. You keep saying you want to get to know me, but if you do, it has to be on my terms, too. It can't just be about what _you_ want."

There was a momentary silence, and Tim could almost have sworn that Tony looked a little hurt. He felt bad about that and tried to think about what he could say to make up for it because it wasn't that he didn't like Tony, but he wasn't used to his personality. It was kind of pushy, even as it was sincere. Tim had never had friends like this and he didn't know how to react...and he still wasn't at his best anyway.

All this was going through his head as he tried to think of something to say, but then, he was surprised when Tony suddenly looked a little sheepish.

"Sorry."

"No... I..."

"No, really," Tony said. "I'm sorry. I'm used to people who think like I do...and..." He shrugged uncomfortably. "And I'm used to making friends and then losing them after a few years. I like having lots of friends, but there isn't time to just be friends. I've moved around a lot and I make friends quick, but I lose them quick, too."

"I don't make friends very easily," Tim said, softly. "So when I have them... I keep them. If I don't ruin it, first. I lost friends last year because I couldn't tell them why I was different. Lewis... he wouldn't stand for it and he stuck with me, even though I was hard to be around a lot of the time." He sighed. "I didn't want to lose them, but being afraid was more important."

"If they wouldn't stick with you, they weren't real friends," Tony said.

"Or I wasn't a real friend," Tim said. "I can't pretend that I didn't push them away."

There was another brief silence. Then, to Tim's surprise (again), Tony smiled.

"So we've established that we're both kind of friendship dunces in our own special ways. If you're willing to deal with my dunce...ness, I'm willing to deal with yours."

"As long as you don't want me to tell you absolutely everything right away."

"Okay. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die." He even suited actions to words.

Tim couldn't help smiling at that. There was a definite streak of childishness in Tony that was borderline annoying and endearing. At the same time, he was finding that it was genuinely a part of who Tony was. It wasn't simply something he pretended.

"Okay," Tim said.

"Now, if you're settled here, I'll go and do something more exciting than sitting in your office, like get my groceries. Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to help you get back home?"

Tim was still embarrassed by the necessity, but he shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"Okay, then, I'll call you. ...or you can call me if you make a decision."

"Okay. Tony, thank you," Tim said. "Thanks for getting me here. I don't know if I could have made it by myself."

"You would have, but it's no problem," Tony said. He gave a mock salute and then left the office.

Tim sat alone for a few minutes, thinking about how much he liked being back in his office and then, he got up and walked over to a part of the bookshelf Tony hadn't looked at. He smiled and pulled a book off the shelf. Of the children's mystery stories, this was his favorite. He had read it so many times that there were parts he had memorized.

_Nate the Great and the Phony Clue_.

He wasn't ready to do work yet, but he could sit in his office and read.

And that seemed like a great use of his time. He leaned back on his chair, trying to get as comfortable as possible, and then, he started reading.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

After another two days, Tim ventured out of his apartment by himself. He didn't tell anyone, but he was thrilled that he managed it. With that success, his psychiatrist had said that it was time to stop the house calls and have Tim come to his office which would take him outside every other day for now.

He was still nervous and anxious, but he was managing it and the more he talked about it, the easier it was. In fact, even with his continuing anxiety, Tim couldn't believe how much better he felt now than he had for the last year.

There was a tentative knock on his office door. Tim took a breath, steeling himself to answer, even though he knew who it must be. He turned around.

"Come in."

The door opened and Jason stuck his head inside.

"Hi, Professor. Are you free?"

Tim smiled. "Jason, I told you that you could drop in today. I'm free."

"You're okay? I read all about you on the news and I saw the stuff on TV. That was all going on like... now!"

Tim took a deep breath and nodded. He'd refused all interviews but that hadn't stopped the stories, and there had been plenty of them.

"Well, a few weeks ago, but yes."

"If you don't want to deal with another course, I totally get it, Professor," Jason said. "The news said you got shot!"

"I did," Tim said, not really enjoying this conversation. "But, Jason, I wouldn't have said you could come by if I couldn't handle it. I'd rather talk about cryptology than getting shot."

"Sorry," Jason said, reddening. "It's just that... it's more... real, I guess. I know who you are and you were involved in all this stuff...and it was using the things you specialize in, too!"

"Your cryptology course, Jason," Tim said, relieved that he could have the conversation at all, but ready for it to be done.

The blush deepened, but Jason nodded.

"Okay. Sorry, Professor."

"That's fine. Now, I haven't spent as much time looking over what you sent as I normally would, but I wanted to get this going since there was quite a delay on it," Tim said, trying to be all business. "What I'm seeing is that you're trying to ascertain if there would be any use to bringing back the linguistic component of cryptology. You know that it's mostly been supplanted by computers, right?"

Jason leaned forward. "I do, but I think that might be a mistake. What if we could use linguistics as an extra layer of security in cryptology? What if something happens and we can no longer use computers? There are a lot of reasons not to give up on the linguistic aspect."

"This is pretty ambitious for a senior thesis," Tim said.

"I know, and I know I can't do it all, but if I could get a good start on it and if it's good enough, that would give me a leg up in getting into grad school."

"Very true. Now, remember that linguistics isn't my thing, but I do know something about early cryptology, so I'll get some sources compiled for you and you can do some more thinking about what you want the assessment to be in the course. Do you want to write an extra paper or do you want it to be something oral? I'll be able to give your proposal more attention now, but I do need something more specific from you. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, if you'd like to get a start, I can loan you one of my books on the condition that you return it. It's one of my favorites. Actually, it's the book that got me started on cryptology."

"Wow. Yes, of course."

Tim smiled. He was pretty sure that Jason would not be expecting what he was going to give him, but he stood up and walked over to one corner of his bookshelf. Without any hesitation, he pulled a small book off the shelf and then handed it to Jason. It was old and worn. Jason opened it to the title page and then stopped and looked up, confusion obvious on his face.

"Professor?"

Tim walked back to his chair and sat down.

"It's still summer, Jason. I don't want you to lose all your time focused only on getting these courses set up."

"But, Professor... Edgar Allan Poe? I've never even heard of _The Gold-Bug_."

"All the more reason to read it. William Friedman was inspired by reading this story and you know what he managed to do."

Jason's eyes widened. Tim knew why. Friedman had been the foremost cryptologist in his lifetime and had deciphered Japan's PURPLE code in World War II. Tim smiled.

"It won't take you long, and if, when you're done, you want something more weighty, I can give you suggestions for that, too, but read this first."

"Okay, Professor. I will," Jason said, still looking confused.

Tim just continued to smile.

"And get your revised proposal to me in the next week."

"Yes, Professor."

Jason jumped to his feet and said an awkward good-bye. Then, he left. Tim watched him go and shook his head. No, Jason did not understand the purpose of it. Probably, most of Tim's colleagues wouldn't understand it, either, but Tim did and that was what mattered. For now.

He leaned back in his chair and tried to relax. Having Jason ask him all those questions about what had happened had been draining, but being able to interact with an enthusiastic student had also been a nice change to what he'd been dealing with in the last little while.

About an hour later, there was another knock. Tim felt the automatic tension since he didn't know who this was, but he looked at the time and hoped he knew. He debated whether or not he should just say come in.

"Tim, it's Lewis! You alive in there?"

Tim let out his breath in a whoosh, feeling a twinge at the strain.

"Come in," he said, feeling a little shaky.

Lewis poked his head in and looked concerned.

"You okay?"

"I wasn't expecting you," Tim said. "I just... got nervous."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was hoping you were here and wanted to... come out and get lunch with me."

Tim smiled at the hesitation.

"Yeah... as long as you're okay with me being nervous."

"You have reason to be. Tim, anytime you need help, you know you can ask, right?"

"I do."

"Good. If you said no, I'd be irritated."

"We can't have that, can we," Tim said, smiling a little.

Lewis sat down on the padded chair that Jason had been sitting on.

"Seriously, Tim. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. I came here on my own."

"Good for you!"

"It's going to take a while, Lewis. I can't just... be better without time."

"I know. What I'm glad about is that you're actually taking the time. You weren't before."

"I know."

"And I promise I'm not going to berate you about it anymore. Right now, I'm just going to be a good friend and get you outside in the relatively-safe environment of the food court of the student center."

"What would I do without you?" Tim asked, smiling.

"I don't know, but did you know that the first student union building was at the University of Pennsylvania? It was built in 1896 _and_ they're still using it."

"I didn't know that, but I never know those random things you tell me."

Lewis chuckled and pulled Tim to his feet and then, they left his office and headed to the much-newer student union building to get lunch.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony stretched his arm out experimentally, relishing the freedom of movement he now had in his right arm. He could feel a bit of a pull but it wasn't bad at all.

"Don't overdo it, Tony," Dr. Haeckel said, in warning. "The sling is off and the stitches are out, but you're still not fully healed. If I see you back in my office because you've done something stupid, I'll be very annoyed."

Tony laughed. "It wouldn't be a personal attack, you know."

"Yes, it would. You would see it as the silver lining in your re-injury. You got to annoy your doctor."

"I would never think that. You keep me functioning."

Dr. Haeckel sighed. "Now, I know you've been doing some physical therapy, but I have already given the modified instructions to your therapist and you will _not_ exceed them. Understood?"

"Understood."

"And when you go back to work, take it easy."

"I will. Only part time, for now."

"Good. No basketball yet, and no field work."

"No basketball?" Tony said in mock horror.

Dr. Haeckel just gave him a _look_. Tony grinned.

"I won't rush it. Promise."

There was a significant pause and then Dr. Haeckel signed off on the form clearing Tony for work again. It meant that he had the chance to do something more with his day and Tony didn't mind if he had to work on cold cases or anything else. He just wanted to be back to work...hopefully with a warm welcome. At least _lukewarm_.

After being freed from the sling and permitted to leave the office, Tony left and decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his day. It was still afternoon, and early enough that most of his friends would be working. Would Tim? Tony wasn't sure, but he also had to admit that Tim's reprimand had made him think twice. Not about being friends because he was still sure that Tim would remain interesting, even if he was very different from Tony's usual friends (or maybe _because _of that), but Tim's resistance to satisfying Tony's curiosity about everything he wanted to know had made him think about how he approached the potential friendship.

If he wanted to be friends with Tim (and he did), then, he'd have to respect what Tim wanted as well. So Tony hadn't called Tim very often in the last few days, wanting to give Tim the room he seemed to need, but now, he had good news and he wanted to celebrate with _someone_. Tim would surely not be fully back to work yet. He could take some time.

Tony called, wondering if Tim would finally sound happy.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Tim. It's Tony."

"_Hi."_

Nope.

"Tim, I have to say that calling you does wonders for my self-esteem."

"_Huh?"_

"I'm never sure if you're actually glad I call. It keeps me from getting too full of myself."

"_Um... You're welcome? I'm sorry? I don't know how to respond."_

Tony laughed. "I don't know, either. I need to celebrate, but celebrating alone is depressing. Do you have time to celebrate with me?"

"_What are you celebrating?"_

"My doctor is finally letting me take the sling off and I'll be getting back to work part time, tomorrow!"

"_Congratulations, Tony. That's great."_

"So...can you help me celebrate?"

"_Well... it depends."_

"On what?"

"_On what you want to do. I got to my office on my own and Lewis has made me go to lunch with him a couple of times, but..."_

"Hey, you're out on your own again? That's great! We both have something to celebrate!"

"_Just to my office."_

"That's not _just_. It's great, Tim. Accept it. And I wouldn't inflict a club or anything crazy on you. I was hoping to get an early dinner, maybe even dessert."

"_Who's buying?"_

"My treat because I'm in such a good mood. Even if you do want dessert."

"_Okay. I think I can work that into my schedule."_

Tony didn't yet know how to tell when Tim was joking and when he wasn't. He'd been too anxious to make many jokes in the time he'd know him.

"Are you busy?"

"_Yep. I've read three novels just today."_

Ah, so that was joking.

"Sounds very busy. I guess you'll need a break, then."

"_I guess I will."_

"Are you at your office?"

"_Yeah, but I was just going home. If you don't mind, I'd like to go home, first. On my own."_

Tony could understand that need while Tim was in his own recovery stage. So even if he wanted to push Tim to get moving, he didn't.

"Okay. Give me a call. I can drive now, so I'll come get you."

"_Okay. Congratulations, Tony."_

"To you, too."

"_Bye."_

Tony hung up and prepared to wait for Tim's call. All in all, he was wondering what Tim actually thought about this friendship that had sprung up out of nowhere. Tim was always so self-effacing and he seemed to struggle with the idea that someone would randomly want to know him. The last year must have really been bad. Tony knew it, but he was seeing, the more he hung out with Tim, just _how_ bad it must have been. But then, maybe some of that had predated the Benedict case.

He hoped not.

But there was a lot more to Tim McGee than met the eye and Tony didn't mind finding out about it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim mentally prepared himself to leave his office and go home. While he was managing this, it was still hard, and he didn't like that because he hadn't had this level of difficulty in a long time and he had no interest in letting it stay that way.

"Okay. Just open the door, Tim. You know that no one will be on the other side of it. You _know_ that."

One more breath and he grabbed the knob and then yanked the door open with unnecessary force.

...and then, fell back with an undignified exclamation when there _was_ someone on the other side.

"Whoa. Sorry, Professor."

Tim felt a little weak in the knees and he stepped back quickly and sank down onto his computer chair, breathing deeply. Only then could he actually identify the person who had been standing outside his door.

It was Ron Sacks.

"I either have the best or the worst timing. I was just about to knock," he said.

Tim managed a shaky laugh. "I don't know which it was, but I wouldn't have been happy about the knock, either. I'm still... working on that."

"Well, I'm sorry for freaking you out a little."

"Or a lot."

"Or a lot," Ron said.

"What..." Tim took a deep breath and let it out, regaining his equilibrium. "What were you here for?"

"Actually, just checking on you. Seeing how you were doing. I've been pretty swamped with the case but I had some time today."

If Tony expressing an interest in being friends was weird, Ron simply checking on him was doubly so. Tim had really only interacted with him when in a high state of anxiety and stress. The first time he'd seen Ron was after he'd been shocked into an altered state. To have him here now when Tim was... at least in his right mind and feeling physically okay... well, it was a surprise.

"Oh. Can I ask a stupid question?" Tim asked.

Ron chuckled. "Sure."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you checking on me?"

"Because I've seen you pretty low and I was hoping you weren't still in that situation. Even when I came by your apartment before, you weren't looking so hot. And it looks like you're doing better. Even though I scared you with my perfect timing, you're still looking a lot better. Your injury healing up?"

"Yeah. Mostly, as long as I don't twist too much, I don't notice it."

"Good. Anyway, you probably haven't realized it, but people at the FBI are really impressed with you right now."

"What for?"

"Because you did so much on your own even when you weren't sure you could. And yeah, you fell apart, but considering what you were dealing with at the time, I think you're justified. _And_ I want you to know that your work is going to be instrumental in stopping this smuggling. Our guys are starting where you left off and it's because of what you were doing that we're getting as far as we are. You did the right thing even when it was harder for you."

Tim felt a little self-conscious at that kind of high praise, especially when it was coming from a cop. Sure Ron was an FBI agent, but still he was in law enforcement. He just wasn't sure how to respond to it.

To his surprise, Ron didn't seem bothered by that.

"Anyway, that's why I came by. Were you leaving? Do you need a ride anywhere?"

Tim was about to say what he had said to Tony, that he needed to do it on his own, but he suddenly felt that accepting help from someone in law enforcement would be just as helpful in its way.

"I was going home."

"I can drop you off, if you'd like."

"Thanks."

One more deep breath and Tim gathered his stuff once more and followed Ron out to his car. He hesitated and then got into the front seat.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Professor."

Tim blushed. "I know that...out front."

"Well, anything I can do to help you know that completely. That'll never happen again."

And somehow, even if logically, Ron couldn't possibly control everyone. Even if, logically, it wasn't likely to happen again regardless, it mattered that he said it wouldn't.

"Thanks," Tim said.

The drive over to his place was mostly silent, but then, Tim hesitated and just decided to ask.

"So do you still hate Tony?"

Ron smiled a little. "I never hated him. I didn't like him and I thought he went about things completely wrong, but I didn't hate him."

"That's not what Tony said."

"Well, I can't speak for him."

"I guess not."

There was another silence.

"But Tony does try to do the right thing. Just not always in the right way," Ron said.

"Oh."

That didn't really answer the question, but Tim guessed that it really wasn't his business. It was mostly curiosity.

They arrived at Tim's building without any trouble. Tim started to get out of the car, but then, he paused.

"Thank you, Agent Sacks. For the ride...but also for helping me... with all that."

"You're welcome," Ron said. "Just keep at it. It won't be easy for a while, but it can be. Eventually."

Tim nodded and closed the door and then went up to his apartment to take a bit of a rest from that unexpected interaction.

But it hadn't been so bad.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Tim sat, waiting for Tony to call and say he was downstairs. There was a big part of him that kept wondering why in the world Tony wanted to be friends with a computer geek like him. But Tony was persisting in it, even though it was patently unnecessary. So did he actually want to be friends with a geek? Tim knew that he shouldn't judge everything through the lens of the jocks and the geeks. It wasn't high school anymore, but he had noticed that a lot of those connections (or lack of connections) continued into adulthood.

And yet, here was someone who had been a jock, who had seen him at his lowest points, and yet who claimed to think he was interesting and wanted to get to know him outside of those lowest points.

It was weird.

But Tim was also intrigued himself. And it was the piano that tugged at him and made him want to know more, but he didn't just want to ask about the piano, particularly when Tony had said it was associated with his mother who was dead. He didn't want to bring up something that might be painful. So he didn't feel like he could ask the questions he might want to ask, but he also didn't know exactly what to say. It couldn't all be about him, but he was tongue-tied when it came to speaking of anything else.

All in all, he didn't see himself as any good at making new friends, especially not right now.

There was a call on his phone, and he felt the same burst of anxiety that he did every time his phone rang. Still, he mastered it and saw that it was Tony's number.

"Hi. I'll come down," he said.

"_Okay."_

Tim hung up and took his usual deep breath before opening the door to his home. No one in the hall. He walked to the elevator and rode down. Tony was out on the sidewalk, waiting for him. One more deep breath and he stepped out of the building.

As he had said, there was no sling and Tony looked genuinely thrilled by that fact.

"Hey, how do you feel about Italian?" Tony asked as soon as Tim came out.

"Sure."

"That's not enthusiastic enough, Tim," Tony said.

"It's pasta," Tim said. "How exciting can it be?"

"It's not just pasta," Tony said. "It's _pasta_! As someone who is ever so slightly Italian, I'm hurt that you would denigrate pasta like that. I can make lots of exciting pasta dishes. I won't right now, but I could."

"Uh-huh," Tim said, skeptically.

"I can hear the doubt in your voice," Tony said. "Sometime, I'll prove it to you. I'm a great cook! I'm not much for baking, but I cook and my pasta is to die for."

"So why aren't you just cooking?"

"Because I'm celebrating! ...and well, making your own pasta takes some effort and I'm not ready for that yet," Tony admitted. "So we'll just have to make do with a great Italian restaurant! Are you ready?"

"I guess I have to be," Tim said.

"Yes, you do. Let's go."

Tim got in Tony's car and let him drive them over to a restaurant in Little Italy. Tony led them inside and got a table.

"Okay, Tim. Don't look at the prices. Just order what you want."

Tim chanced a smile. "As long as it's pasta?"

Tony grinned. "Well, that's almost all there is, but you can order whatever you want."

Tim looked at the menu and his eyes widened a little. These were much higher prices than he usually saw on the rare occasions he went out to eat.

"I told you _not_ to look at the prices, Tim!" Tony said. "I got this."

"But..."

"No buts! We're both celebrating our healing processes and that means not worrying about the cost. I've eaten here before and the food is excellent."

Tim took a breath and looked at the menu again, at the same time trying not to be overwhelmed by the crowds. It wasn't a noisy restaurant, but there were a lot of people there and Tim felt a little exposed. Tony had let him sit with his back to the wall and that helped.

"Oh, but you can't order spaghetti with meatballs," Tony said.

"You said I could order whatever I want," Tim said.

"Except that. You need to branch out just slightly."

"Fine, fine."

Tim looked at the menu again.

"Would the penne in pesto be okay for you?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll allow it," Tony said. "How do you feel about getting an appetizer?"

"Sure."

"Calamari?" Tony asked.

"Not a fan," Tim said, feeling his face scrunch up. He'd only had it once and perhaps it was the place he'd had it, but he had not enjoyed it.

"How about bread?"

"Sure."

"Pane rotundo?"

"What is _that_?"

"Bread. With shrimp on top and sauce."

"Okay. Sounds a little weird, but I'll try it."

"Do you want anything to drink?" Tony asked. "I'm driving so I won't be."

"No. Not this time."

"You can."

"No."

Tony smiled. "Don't trust me enough to risk getting drunk?"

"I would never get drunk," Tim said. "I don't drink a whole lot anyway."

"Ah."

Then, their waiter came and saved the conversation for the moment. They got their orders made and then, Tim wondered if he would have to think of something to say.

"You seem really tense, Tim. Are you okay?" Tony asked.

Tim blushed, embarrassed that his uncertainty was showing so obviously.

"I just... I don't know what to say, what to talk about," Tim finally admitted. "I've spent the last year of my life either working on something you won't understand or worrying about the stuff you already know about. There's not much that my life is right now and you have all this stuff, but I don't know what to ask about because I don't really know you and I don't know what would be bad to ask about and what would be okay and the last thing I'd really want is..."

"Tim, calm down," Tony said, looking more amused than anything.

"I'm sorry," Tim said, feeling like his face was on fire.

"It's fine, but you really don't need to worry so much about a simple conversation. There's very little that I would find painful to talk about. I'm good at talking around the stuff I want to avoid, and I'm just good at talking overall. So if there's something you want to ask me, go ahead. Don't worry about it. If not, I can start asking you questions, and if you stop worrying so much, we can probably have a relatively normal conversation."

Tony said that, but Tim was sure there were things he wouldn't want to talk about, things that would be genuinely painful. He just didn't know what they were and he felt worried still. But at the same time, he felt like so much had been focused on himself that he didn't want to have Tony asking him yet more questions. It seemed self-centered. So he cast around in his mind for _something_ he could ask, something that would be better than this awkward silence and Tony's amused expression.

"Did... Did you always want to be a cop? When you were a kid?" Tim asked, knowing that was one of the lamest questions he could probably ask.

"Nope. I was going to be a professional athlete, of course. Once I realized that I wasn't tall enough to be in the NBA and I wasn't fast enough to make up for it. I wasn't big enough to be in the NFL. Well, I had to figure something else out. I can't even remember how I hit on being a cop, but I did. I told you before that I just moved around a lot, working my way up through the ranks, getting more experience. Now, I'm a detective and I don't want to move up any higher."

"Why not?"

"The higher you go from here, the more responsibility you have to take on," Tony said. "You have to think about a bigger picture. You have to be political. I'm not political and I don't want to be. What about you? Do you want to move up?"

"Yes. But not to be over a university. But academia is kind of built to force you to move up."

"Who built it that way?"

"Someone back in the Middle Ages."

"Huh?" Tony asked, his brow furrowing.

Tim smiled a little. "Academia hasn't changed much over the last thousand years or so. It's had hundreds of years to not make sense and they've done a great job of achieving that goal of incomprehensibility."

Tony didn't seem to get it at first, but then, he chuckled.

"So why do it then? You don't seem all that impressed with it."

"Because I like teaching. It keeps me in contact with people. I feel like I can make a real difference in my students' lives. Once I get tenure, I'll be an associate professor instead of an assistant professor. If I want to make full professor before I retire, it'll take years of publishing. Publish or perish is still a real thing in academia. A necessary evil."

"Sounds like an _un_necessary evil if what you want is to teach."

"Unless you're at a community college or something like that, you can't ever _just_ teach. You have to be publishing and presenting at conferences. You have to participate in development meetings, show that you're invested in the department. Lots of schools claim to be all about the students, but when they have to scramble for adjuncts to fill their quota classes because they refuse to hire more full-time faculty and the faculty they have are too busy researching to keep their jobs, you know that it's not about students as much as it is about money."

"You seem a little cynical."

"I am about that."

"I didn't think you knew _how_ to be cynical."

"If you live in any world for long enough, you see enough to be somewhat cynical," Tim said, almost sadly. "Grad school gave me my first taste of academia and it's even more bitter when you're on tenure track. ...but the students make it worth it."

"Do they really?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. They do. I have a student who has taken every class I offer. He claims to have switched to computer science from physics because of a class I taught, and now, he's in his last year and doing an independent study course with me. I've had a big hand in his education and seeing his potential is..." Tim cast around for a word that would express it. "... it's a high that compensates for a lot of the lows."

"What about the students who come and sit in your classes and fall asleep?" Tony asked.

"Like you would?" Tim retorted.

"Touché. But if I was in a computer science class? Absolutely."

"As long as you don't come to my office and beg for an A at the end of the semester. Sleep if you want. I get paid anyway," Tim said.

"Ha!"

Their appetizer came and for the next little while, they ate in relative silence. As they waited for their main course, Tony seemed to be happy to take the reins of the conversation and they started talking about movies and music and light stuff like that. Tim was relieved. Tony seemed to know just how to keep both of them talking. Tim was a little jealous of an ability like that.

Once their main courses came and they were both eating, the conversation continued.

"So... why computer science and not astronomy?" Tony asked about halfway through. "You can't always be thinking of the practical side, not as a teenager."

"I like computers, Tony," Tim said. "I'm good at it and I like it. What's so difficult about that?"

"It's not difficult, but I'm betting that there's more to it than that because you keep trying to avoid the subject."

"I'm not avoiding anything," Tim said, lying through his teeth.

"Is this something that's too deep to share? If so, you'd better tell me because otherwise, I'm going to keep prodding. The less you say, the more I want to know. I'm perverse like that."

Tim debated. If he said anything, he'd probably have to say everything unless Tony was much more perceptive than Tim would guess.

"Come on! You have to give me something."

"Astronomy is great. I've always loved it. ...but there was more to it than that. I wanted to be a detective," Tim said. "But today, detectives have to be able to do more than just use a magnifying glass. If I was an amazing detective..." Tim paused.

"Yeah?"

"I could figure out what had happened to my dad during his last deployment and make things right. He could go back to the Navy where he belonged. But as I was in my classes, I realized that it didn't work like that. So I gave up on the Navy stuff and kept the degree...and went on."

"You don't know what happened?"

"No. It's classified, but I know it was bad."

Surprisingly, Tony didn't press him for more, but he seemed more thoughtful about it. They continued eating and then, Tony insisted they each get canolli for dessert and Tim agreed. Tim tried to help with the bill, but Tony was not having it and insisted on paying the whole bill himself. Then, they started out. Tim was bursting to ask about the piano but he still didn't dare...until they were almost back to his place.

"Why the piano? Is it just your mother?" Tim asked finally.

It came out of the blue, but Tony smiled, although this one seemed more sincere and thoughtful.

"No. She was the reason I kept playing when I was younger, but now, it's something I enjoy but it's really hard to get a piano into an apartment. To have one that came with it was nothing short of miraculous," Tony said. "I was thrilled because that meant I could start playing again. I haven't been able to play much in the last few years. And when I make you taste my cooking, I'll also show off my musical talents."

"I almost look forward to it," Tim said.

"Only almost?"

"Well..."

Tony just laughed. "You'll see. For now, I'll let _you_ go and get the rest you probably still need, and I'll do the same. Thanks for celebrating with me."

"Thanks for... dinner," Tim said, meaning more than that but unsure of how to word it.

"No problem. See you later," Tony said.

Then, he drove off and Tim went quickly back up to his apartment. He looked out the window.

It only took a moment to be able to see the Inner Harbor.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony got home, still thrilled that he was allowed to use his arm now. In fact, even though he'd celebrated with Tim, he now was happy to do some more celebrating. He actually sat down at his piano and played for a little while, enjoying being able to use both hands again. However, he had to admit that he wasn't quite ready for a lengthy piano session. So he only played for about ten minutes and then decided that he could celebrate in another way.

By watching a movie.

The question was which movie to watch. He had plenty of choices, but he wasn't sure which genre he was in the mood for.

As he sat on his couch, looking over his movies, there was a knock at the door.

Tony wasn't expecting anyone, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be someone he wanted to see. Still half looking at his DVDs, he walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. Surprised, he opened the door.

"Hi, Ron," he said.

"No sling?"

"Just got it off today," Tony said, holding up his arm with a grin.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"You busy?" Ron asked.

"Nope. Just deciding which movie to watch."

"Good. You need to have real popcorn if you're going to be a movie guy."

Tony chuckled. "Popcorn is not a necessary accompaniment to all movie watching."

"Yes, it is," Ron said. "So I brought you some."

He held up a bag that Tony hadn't noticed before. Tony laughed in surprise.

"You bought me popcorn?"

"No. I _made _you popcorn. That's your problem. You think that popcorn is just something you buy. The best stuff is the popcorn you make yourself."

"I doubt that."

"Then, try it and see," Ron said.

"Can't do that. I haven't chosen a movie yet. Any suggestions?" Tony asked.

"I don't know what you have."

"Well, take a look then, Ron. You can't pick a movie without looking."

Ron looked around at the shelves.

"Are these in any kind of order?"

"Only by genre."

"That's better than nothing. What's where?"

"Scifi/fantasy are over there. Westerns on the top shelf. Cop movies next one down. Sword and sandal movies are below scifi. B movies are on those three shelves." Tony kept going, pointing at the various bookshelves which held DVDs, but he saw where Ron's attention was caught. He walked over the B-movie shelf.

"You put _The Haunted Palace_ over here?" Ron asked, sounding almost offended. "With Vincent Price pretty much at his best?"

"B movies aren't necessarily bad, you know. It's all about the budget and _The Haunted Palace _qualifies."

"Vincent Price deserves better."

"He was in a lot of B movies. I doubt he'd care. Don't forget, he was in that silly _Son of Sinbad_ movie, playing Omar Khayyam."

"Everyone can make a mistake. He was great in _The Haunted Palace_. You can't deny that. And he was great in all those Poe movies that Corman made. _The Masque of the Red Death_ was the best of the bunch."

"So do you want to watch _The Haunted Palace_, then?"

Ron almost said yes, but then, Tony saw his attention get caught by another movie.

"_The Crawling Eye_?"

"Ever seen that one? It's got Forrest Tucker from _F Troop_."

"I don't think I have." He pulled the DVD off the shelf and handed it to Tony.

Tony nodded and put it in. Then, he sat down on the couch as Ron opened up the bag he'd brought. Tony suddenly caught a whiff of caramel popcorn. He was impressed, but even more than that, he wondered if he could pretend that it wasn't as amazing as he was sure it was going to be.

"Try it, DiNozzo," Ron said, holding it out.

Tony smiled and took a large handful. He tried it.

It was amazing.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"It's pretty good."

"Ha. It's great and you know it. I can practically see you salivating."

"Okay, okay. It's better than theater popcorn. It makes a difference," Tony said, loath to admit it but afraid that Ron would take the popcorn away if he didn't.

"Thank you. Now, let's watch the movie."

"Okay, bossy."

"Just start the movie, Tony."

Tony did and they proceeded to watch another old B movie.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Tony woke up very early. No matter what he had said to Tim, he was still worried about his welcome back at work. And the thing was that, given the situation (killing a fellow officer, even if he _was _dirty)... well, if the cops he worked with weren't willing to take him back, he really couldn't just ask for a transfer to another district within the BPD. Everyone would know about it and everyone would be suspicious of him. They'd all be leery about someone who had killed one of their own. However, if he could get back to work with his current coworkers, over time things would improve.

He lay in bed for almost an hour, staring at the ceiling, just hoping that things would end up going well. At least, tolerable. He didn't want to have to move away from Baltimore. He liked this place. More than he had ever thought he would.

_I won't be working the whole day. They can adjust to me being back gradually. Travers is on my side. So is Clark. It'll be fine._

He continued to lay in bed until he finally shook himself and decided that it wouldn't do him any good to keep worrying. He had to face whatever music would be playing. He had done it before and he could do it again.

Tony got out of bed and took his time showering and shaving and getting ready for his day. He was still cautious about his arm, but overall, it felt stiff not painful. He would take that, especially since he knew that he'd mostly be doing paperwork today...and probably for most of the week as his arm strengthened.

Then, he decided to test out his arm just a little by making himself an omelet for breakfast. He liked dressing his omelets up with green peppers and sausage and anything else he had on hand. It made it more filling, and it was more fun to make. Plus, he liked how it tasted better.

He was still a little clumsy, but overall, he was satisfied with how his arm was healing up. In another couple of weeks, he was sure he'd be back to normal.

He also savored the chance to eat with his right hand again. That was a definite plus.

Tony enjoyed his breakfast and then washed the dishes, still kind of procrastinating going in to work. He wanted to, but he was still nervous. He finished the dishes and knew that he couldn't keep putting it off, so he took a breath and went to grab his stuff.

As he did, his phone rang. Wondering who would be calling him first thing in the morning (since Ron had been over the night before and he wasn't doing any cases at the moment), he answered.

"DiNozzo."

"_Hi, Tony."_

Tony smiled. "Hey, Tim. What's up?"

"_You're going back to work today?"_

"Yeah. Just about to leave."

"_Oh. Sorry."_

"No. What's up?"

"_Is everything going to be okay for you?"_ Tim asked, sounding concerned.

The last thing Tony wanted was for Tim to think something might go wrong (as it had for him).

"It'll be fine. Don't worry."

"_That's asking a bit much," _Tim said.

Tony chuckled. "Well, maybe, but don't worry as much as you can. I'll be fine."

"_Are you sure? I don't want anyone to blame you for what happened."_

"They won't," Tony said, with a confidence he didn't quite feel.

There was a pause. Then, Tim suddenly spoke, sounding extremely different from the tone Tony had begun to associate with him. There was no fear, no hesitancy.

"_I can tell that you're lying. I'm guessing you probably don't want me to think about it, and I don't mind that so much, but I know that you're nervous about it, whether you admit it to me or not."_

"And how do you know that?" Tony asked, more surprised at the confidence than he'd admit.

"_Part of it is logic. But the other part is what you said last night. You said that you talk around the things you don't want to think about. You're trying to make this into nothing when it might not be. So I think I can be safe in assuming that you're nervous but trying to ignore that you're nervous. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing to do, but I can tell that you're nervous."_

"You sound much less nervous than I might have thought."

"_Phones... I'm not actually there,"_ Tim said, but he sounded a little embarrassed.

"Okay. Yeah, I'm a little nervous, but my partner is on my side. My boss is supporting me."

"_So...only a hundred other people to worry about?"_

"No. Tim, I'm nervous, but I'm not afraid. I don't think anyone is going to attack me. I only worry a little that they won't trust me anymore and if that happens, then, I'll have to move on."

"_Why?"_

"Because the job we do isn't one that we can do if we're worried about trusting the people on our side."

"_Is that why you were so worried about solving the case? You knew that John was killed by one of his own?"_

"No, actually. It's because I didn't like that you were stuck in it. Once I realized how bad it was for you, I felt I had to do something."

There was a pause.

"Really, Tim. I can be shallow as a puddle, but I don't like seeing people suffer, especially when they don't deserve it. You didn't. I'm glad you're doing okay now and it will be better when you're more than okay."

"_Thanks,"_ Tim said, softly.

"You're welcome. Now, I really do need to get to work, and you really don't need to worry about me. I always get by."

"_You shouldn't need to think that way."_

"Hey, maybe I won't. I won't know until I get there."

"_Okay."_ There was another pause. _"If I can help at all..."_

"I'll ask."

"_Okay."_ Tim sounded doubtful, and Tony didn't blame him, but he wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Tim's ability again...even if he was glad that he had his partner there to back him up, not just Tim.

"See ya later," Tony said, determined to keep this calm. No panic. "I'll even let you know how it goes."

"_Okay. Bye."_

Tony barely had time to say good-bye himself before Tim hung up. He smiled. That was the first time Tim had actually initiated any non-case-related talk. It was kind of nice to have the feeling that the interest was on both sides, not just him.

But as he had said, he needed to get to work. He couldn't keep putting it off.

With one last check, he walked out the door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim shook his head as he hung up the phone. He doubted Tony would voluntarily call on him for help with anything. He had the feeling that Tony didn't think Tim _could_ help. Tim remembered what he had said. The memory was a little blurry but he'd been upset that Tim had been the one who had done what he had deemed worthy of being heroic.

The thing was, though, that Tim could hardly blame Tony for feeling that way. Tim knew that he'd been so far from at his best over the last few weeks that he probably couldn't have touched _best_ with a ten-foot or even hundred-foot pole. In fact, he had been uncertain about calling, but he had done it. Now, he was wondering if he should have at all. This friendship was still so different from others he'd had that he just wasn't sure how to go about it. Tony didn't seem worried at all, but he probably wouldn't regardless of whether or not he really was. While he knew it was probably silly, Tim still had a hard time believing that Tony was putting forth this effort because he actually wanted to be friends. It was ridiculous to think that Tony felt enough of an obligation for it, but at the same time, it was hard to believe.

Tim tried to push that aside. He was finally getting back to real work today and he needed to focus on that rather than on this weird friendship he somehow had.

Work was always his escape from the things he couldn't grapple with easily. Maybe he shouldn't do it, but he was going to.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony pulled into his space and thought about what might be waiting for him inside. There were so many ways that this could go. Maybe he'd been too quick to blow off Tim's concern. It might have been nice to hash it out a little bit with someone who might not be objective about his place of employment but could at least think about those things relatively easily.

Oh, well. He'd squandered that opportunity. While he thought he'd enjoy being friends with Tim, it was still a little awkward, mostly because Tim himself didn't seem to think this was natural. Tony actually laughed a little to himself at Tim's uncertainty.

_And I probably didn't help that today. He was trying to be supportive and I didn't let him._

Time to face the music.

He got out of the car and then saw Clark come out of the building. He didn't seem surprised.

Squaring his shoulders, Tony walked over to him.

"Hey," he said.

"How's the arm?" Clark asked.

"Not 100 percent, but it's getting there. I'll have to do mostly the files for the next few days."

Clark smiled a little bit. "Good. You always make me do the files."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do, and I'll be happy to leave them to you for the next while."

Tony grinned but then hesitated.

"How's it going?" he asked, more seriously.

"Internal Affairs is still around. Travers isn't enjoying it."

"And what about me?"

Clark raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I'm asking."

"Yeah, I do."

"And?"

"And... it'll be awkward for a while."

"Come on, Clark," Tony said. "You know what I'm asking. And it's not about whether or not it'll be awkward."

Clark smiled slightly.

"Come inside and see for yourself, Detective."

Now, it was Tony's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Come on, Tony."

Clark walked into the building. Tony followed along behind, feeling unsure but trusting that Clark had his back.

And he didn't show his uncertainty at all as they went inside. They walked _almost_ side-by-side into the bullpen. Tony couldn't help but be a little bit behind Clark and he just hoped that no one else noticed it.

As they walked in, everyone was working and talking, but that all faded into silence as Tony headed over to his desk. When he got there, he suddenly noticed that everyone in the bullpen was standing up.

And everyone was staring at him.

For just a moment (an eternal moment, but still just a moment), Tony thought he might understand just a little bit what Tim felt in his fear of the police. He had absolutely no idea what was coming, but he knew something was.

And then, they started to applaud. Everyone in the rooming was applauding, including Clark.

"What is this?" Tony asked, feeling way more relief than he expected.

Clark stepped close enough that he could be heard over the clapping.

"Everyone has seen the evidence, Tony. Yeah, you killed Archer, but he killed his own partner. Blaser has confessed. We know, and what you did was the right thing to do."

Then, he stepped back and joined in the clapping.

Tony smiled, almost with disbelief. He had hoped that things would be _okay_. This was probably about as good as they could realistically be. (Unrealistic would be that he got a huge raise for his courage.) Awkward still? Very likely, but he still had the trust of his colleagues.

"Okay, okay. That's enough," Travers said from his office door. "Get back to work."

There was some laughter, but the applause stopped and everyone ostensibly got back to work as ordered. There were still some glances his way that weren't normal, but Tony could handle that. He sat down at his desk.

"You were worried, weren't you," Clark said.

"A little, yeah."

"Only a little?"

"DiNozzo! My office!" Travers shouted.

Tony quirked a half smile.

"A lot."

Then, he got up and walked over to Travers' office.

"Have a seat," Travers said.

Tony sat down opposite the desk.

"How's the arm?"

"Doing better. Not ready for the field work yet, but I'm in therapy and it's healing."

"Good. Insurance giving you any trouble?"

"Not yet."

"Let me know."

"Okay."

There was a pause.

"I didn't put them up to that," Travers said, gesturing toward the bullpen.

"Who did?"

"I don't know, but I didn't see anyone faking."

The meant more than Tony might have thought it would.

"I'm glad, sir."

"I thought you might be. What I told you before still goes, though. If you find that someone really is faking it, I expect you to let me know."

"Understood."

"Good. Half days?"

"Yes, sir. At least for the next week."

"All right. Then, get to work. Clark's been just working on forms, but with the two of you, there are some cold cases that can use a new set of eyes."

"Happy to do it, sir."

"I think you might actually mean that."

Tony grinned. "For now, I do."

Travers chuckled and gestured for Tony to leave. Tony went back to his desk.

"What was that?" Clark asked.

"He was just seeing where I was at...you know, with my arm."

"And?"

"After a week, he'll be hounding me to be back to full form."

"So we've got a week of things being easy?"

"And boring."

"But easy?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah. Easy."

"Good. I'm fine with that."

"Travers said there were some cold cases we could look at."

"Oh. I'll bet I know which ones. I'll show you."

"I'm all ears."

Gladly, Tony followed Clark back to the cold case files.

There were still more than a few glances his way, and Tony knew that he'd get plenty of questions over the next little while, but he could deal with that, and he would be happy to as long as they gave him a chance.

And so far, they were.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim let time get away from him. After having lunch with Lewis, he sequestered himself in his office and began to work in earnest on editing his conference paper with the idea of submitting it to the proceedings of the conference.

This was the first day that he'd really spent working on his job in a long time. Too long a time, and now that he was freeing himself from the worry associated with the Benedict case, he could go back to the worry of getting tenure. He didn't want to have to leave here. He didn't want to have to start over anywhere, and he was still feeling shaky. More than he'd like to be...since he didn't want to feel shaky at all.

But work always made sense. Computers always made sense to him. Even when the world around him was just incomprehensible or frightening, he still felt good when he could lose himself in working with computers. He wasn't supposed to let himself do it too often. He'd been cautioned against it, and he didn't really want that to be all he was, but sometimes, it was nice to make it easy on himself.

He worked in blissful disconnect from the world until his ringing phone startled him out of his focus. In fact, he almost missed it because he was focusing so intently on his work.

However, he managed to answer before it clicked over to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, Tim. It's Tony."_

"Oh," Tim said, unsure of what to say, but then, he remembered what Tony had said before, that he was never sure whether or not Tim actually wanted him to call. "Hi!" he added, a little lamely.

Tony laughed.

"_I appreciate the effort, Tim."_

"Um...you're welcome. What is it?"

"_I told you that I'd give you a report on how my first day back went."_

"And?"

"_They gave me a standing ovation."_

"What?"

"_I'm serious. They clapped for me when I came in. Now, that doesn't mean everything is perfect, but they're acknowledging that what I did was the right thing to do. I wish that included you, but they probably aren't thinking that far yet. I'll work on them."_

"You don't have to. I'm glad that they're... on your side," Tim said. "Really."

"_No, Tim. It's the same thing I told you this morning. It's about trust. If you don't trust the police, if you're still afraid to lean on us, then, that means that we've failed."_

"I trust you," Tim said.

And then, was surprised to realize that he actually meant it. He did trust Tony. He trusted Ron, too, but he genuinely trusted Tony.

"_Well, thanks, Tim. I'm surprised."_

"Actually, so am I."

"_Very funny. Anyway, you need to be able to trust more than just me. You need to be able to trust the police in general. If you have an emergency, it won't necessarily be me who comes. You need to be able to know that the police are on _your_ side. If not, then, we can't do what we're supposed to do. Protect and serve."_

"It's not going to be that easy."

"_I know, but I'm going to work on it. So are you. That'll make a difference."_

"Maybe."

"_So how has your day been?"_

"Just working on a paper for publication. If I can get it submitted before my tenure committee meets, that will be one more thing to support me."

"_That sounds utterly thrilling."_

"I know."

"_Why is tenure so important?"_

"Because I don't want to lose my job. Not getting tenure in a university basically means you're fired. It means that you failed. And so I'd have to completely uproot myself and try to find somewhere else and I don't want to. I've been in Baltimore for six years and I like it here. I don't want to leave."

There was a pause.

"_That's how I feel, too."_

"Really?"

"_Yeah. I didn't think it would, but Baltimore is... kind of home to me now. I don't really have a place to call home from when I was a kid, so I've had to find somewhere on my own. I have, and I don't want to have to find a new one. I'll admit it. I was really worried this morning."_

Tim smiled a little. "You said you weren't."

"_I lied."_

"Why? Do you really think that I'd think less of you because you were worried? I don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to stuff like that. I understand being worried."

"_I know."_

"So..."

"_So I don't like admitting when I'm worried. It feels like I'm jinxing myself, asking for the worst to happen. If I pretend, it will just be better. Don't ask me how. It just will."_

Tim felt his brow furrowing. It was moments like this when he wasn't sure if Tony was being serious or not. The problem was that it wasn't just being on the phone. He was pretty sure he wouldn't know it in person, either.

"Tony... you don't make any sense."

"_That's the joy of knowing someone like me, Tim. You just need to broaden your social circles."_

"I'm starting to see that," Tim said, drily.

"_Good. So I'm guessing that we'll both be busier for the next while since you're working again and so am I."_

"Yeah. Probably."

"_Then, it'll have to wait, but you'd better realize that it's coming."_

"What's coming?"

"_You didn't believe me when I told you about my cooking prowess. So one of these days, I'll be ready to show off and you'd better be ready for it."_

"Tony, you don't have to cook for me."

"_Yes, I do. You don't believe that I can do it, and that won't stand. So be prepared. It's coming."_

"Uh...okay."

"_Good. Now, I'm tired with my first day back and I'll bet it's time for you to go home, too."_

"How do you know I'm not already home?"

"_Are you?"_

"Well, no, but..."

"_Then, it doesn't matter how I know. Magic detective-fu. Let's leave it at that. Take care."_

"I always do, you know."

"_I know. Except when you're trying to protect everyone else. And Tim, maybe you don't realize it, but you'd have made a great detective. You're probably doing great at being the nerdy professor and I'm not trying to say you chose the wrong occupation or anything..."_

"But?"

"_But you wouldn't have been too wimpy to be a cop if that's what you had wanted...whether you helped your dad or not. This is something you could have done really well at if you'd wanted to."_

Tim was more than a little surprised and a little bit touched by the sentiment, even if he was pretty sure that Tony didn't mean it.

"_And I really mean it,"_ Tony added, almost as if he'd read Tim's mind.

"...thanks," Tim said.

"_You're welcome. Now, go home."_

"Why?"

"_Because I'll bet you've been working all day and you need a break."_

Tim wasn't sure what to say, but Tony wasn't done.

"_And when you get tenure, you'll tell me. You deserve to celebrate that."_

"With what?" Tim asked, a little sarcastically. "Pasta?"

"_Yes! Now, you're getting it."_

Tim was startled into laughter.

"_Go home, Tim. Have a nice evening."_

"Thanks, Tony."

"_You're welcome. Good night."_

Tim said good-bye and hung up. He sat there. Tony moved from joking to serious so quickly that he really had a hard time following it.

Well, no matter what else, it was very unlikely that he'd ever find this friendship boring.

With that thought, he shut down his computer and went home.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

_One month later..._

Tim sat in his office, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

_I did it._

He was excited, but his excitement was tempered by the intense relief of knowing that he could stay. He should celebrate, but he wasn't sure about what would be best for that. Lewis was bogged down in some work of his own and Janice had told him he was going to take one weekend with her or else, so Tim knew he'd be celebrating with them, but not until next week. He'd already called his family, told his colleagues (who mostly already knew) and now...

No matter how many times he lectured himself, there was still a little bit of hesitancy. He wasn't sure if it was still obvious, but it was there whether it was obvious or not.

At this point, he wasn't even sure what was causing it, but it was there.

Still, he did want to be able to celebrate this.

Finally, after staring at his phone for far too long, he dialed.

"_DiNozzo."_

"Hey, Tony."

"_Oh, hi, Tim. I wasn't even looking at who was calling. What's up?"_

"Well..." Tim didn't know why he was having such a hard time saying it. Maybe there was a little bit of fear that he was wrong...but at the same time, he hadn't been so hesitant with the others.

"_Well, what? Is something wrong?"_

"No! No, it's... right."

Tony laughed. _"Tim, please, make sense, if you can."_

"I got tenure," Tim finally blurted out. "I can stay here."

"_Congrats! That's great!"_

There was a pause and Tim didn't know what Tony was thinking, but _he_ was thinking that he just didn't know how to ask Tony to help him celebrate. Again, it shouldn't be hard, but it still was.

"_Then, you need to celebrate! What are you going to do?"_

"I don't know."

"_You don't know? Come on, Tim! You've got to do something!"_

Perfect opening.

"Any suggestions?"

Tim didn't know if it was painfully obvious what he was doing, but Tony didn't comment on it.

"_Actually, yes. I haven't had a chance to show off my cooking prowess yet. You can come over to my place and I'll prove that I can cook."_

"You don't have to do that," Tim said.

"_Yes, I do. My arm has been pretty much normal for a couple of weeks now, and you've been so busy with your other stuff that you've been delaying. So this is your punishment."_

"I thought you said you were a good cook."

"_I am."_

"Then, why is it a punishment?" Tim asked.

"_Hmmm... Good point. So you in?"_

"Yeah."

"_Excellent. Any food allergies?"_

Tim let out a surprised laugh. "No."

"_Even better. You'll be so delighted with what I make that you will never be satisfied by food again."_

"I think that might be a bit overkill, don't you?"

"_Ha. Just you wait."_

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Tim said.

"_Nope. Too late. Already decided. See you at my place at seven. And you can bring dessert."_

"Okay. Bye."

Tim hung up and shook his head. He was always so unsure when he thought about it, but Tony's breezy attitude was hard to resist and he always found himself relaxing a bit in the face of Tony's apparent lack of worry about Tim's reactions. Tim wanted to be back to normal, but that hadn't happened yet, in spite of his continuing meetings with a psychiatrist. However, he was improving and he could tell that much. He just wanted to stop being so afraid of what other people would do.

Oh, well. That wasn't happening yet but things were still going fine.

And now, he could celebrate his tenure.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony had everything ready. Well, he hadn't started cooking the pasta yet. It would only take a couple of minutes since it was freshly made, and it was best to eat it right after it was cooked. He hadn't started making the sauce yet, either. He wanted to show off. Can't show off if it's all ready when the guest arrives. He'd decided to make puttanesca. It was a quicker sauce, and he had all the ingredients for it on hand already which made it even easier. He had decided to buy some crusty bread from the store. He liked having bread along with his pasta, but not only did he not have time to make it himself, he didn't really do a good job with that kind of thing. No baking. Cooking.

Now, he just had to wait for Tim to arrive. It had been obvious that Tim was fishing for something, and Tony understood as much as possible why Tim still struggled. He knew that Tim was still working on it, and so, even while he wanted to tease about the awkwardness, he didn't want to make Tim too self-conscious. He'd be more likely just to give up on it all together.

Finally, there was a knock on the door. Tony chuckled. Only Tim could make even a knock sound tentative.

He walked over and opened the door.

"Hey, Tim. I'm just about ready to start cooking."

"Oh. I thought it would just be ready," Tim said as he came in.

"I can't show off if it's already done. You have to _see_ what I'm doing and how amazing I am at doing it."

Tony grinned as he saw Tim almost roll his eyes. Yes, he was definitely getting to know the real Tim McGee now. There were some things that Tim found ridiculous. He didn't always say so, but Tony was learning to read Tim's quick expressions.

"Come in! I hope you brought dessert."

"I did, but it needs to go in the freezer."

"Oh? What is it?"

"It's called a tartufo, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I asked Danielle if there were Italian desserts since I figured you'd be doing pasta. She helped me out, but I've never heard of it before."

"Excellent. I love tartufo."

Tony took it from Tim and put it carefully into the freezer. He was glad that Tim was getting into it just a little bit.

Then, it was time to cook. He had made the pasta before Tim came, and it was just waiting for him to cook it. But the sauce, well, he wanted to show that off. So he made Tim sit at the counter while he started cooking. Puttanesca wasn't hard to make, but it looked impressive.

"So, now what do you do?" he asked as he worked.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked. "Are those anchovies?"

Tony looked up and saw the unpleasant expression on Tim's face. He grinned.

"Trust me, Tim. Anchovies are a necessary addition and they're great in this sauce."

"Uh-huh."

"Trust me."

"I guess I have to. What did you mean before?"

"Well, you have tenure," Tony said, going back to the sauce. "That means you're not getting fired, but I'm guessing it means more than that."

Tim nodded. "Yeah. It means that I'm now an associate professor instead of an assistant professor."

"And? What does that mean?"

Tim laughed a little. "It means that I make more money, that I have job security, and I can keep on doing what I'm doing."

"So no higher?"

"Well, I could go for a full professorship, but that's not necessary and, for now, I'm just going to enjoy the fact that I have job security."

"I don't blame you. But you don't get to stop publishing and all that?"

"Oh, no. That's a constant. I don't mind, though. Research is interesting and I get to keep tinkering."

Tony nodded. He didn't think that _he'd_ enjoy a job like that, but Tim didn't seem at all worried about it and since he'd been worried about a lot of things, it must be something he really didn't have any concerns about. ...but that did bring something else to Tony's mind. He hesitated a little bit about bringing it up, but he really was curious.

"So I have a question for you."

"Yeah?"

Tony turned away from his pan for a moment. He wanted to make sure he could tell if he should stop the conversation and he couldn't do that if he couldn't see Tim's face. He was learning to read Tim, but if he tried to hide something, you had to read it very quickly.

"You said before that you've hacked everything from the corner grocery store to the CIA. Were you serious?"

There was caution in Tim's expression but not trauma. Good. ...but he could see that Tim was wary of talking about it...to a cop.

"Come on, I just want to know. I'm not trying to trick you," he said.

"I know," Tim said, "but a secret isn't really a secret if you start telling other people about it."

"So there's a secret to tell?" Tony asked. "I won't tell anyone!"

"That's what they all say," Tim said.

"Please? Pretty please?" Tony asked in a wheedling voice.

Tim sighed. "Fine. I was exaggerating about the grocery store. There's no reason to hack a corner grocery store, even if they had something to hack."

"But not the CIA?" Tony asked in surprise.

"It was only the one time," he said in a low voice, looking a little embarrassed.

"But it _was _one time?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"To see if I could."

"What?" This did not at all square with how Tony had perceived Tim before. Tim didn't break the law on a whim. He didn't break the law at all. He was as straight-laced as they came.

"That's what hacking is, you know," Tim said. "To see if it can be done. For some, that means stealing, too, but not for me. I just want to see what I can do, and there has to be a little bit of risk...but I hadn't done that for a long time...not until... Before."

"Right," Tony said quickly.

"My job deals with cybersecurity," Tim said. "I have to know what the other guys can do."

"And do it yourself?"

"Well... that's not explicitly stated in my job description...but no one said I shouldn't, either."

Tony laughed at Tim's prevaricating.

"So is this normal?"

"I don't know. Among certain circles it is."

"I can't believe that you were so willing to break the law."

"I didn't take anything."

"That sounds like you're trying to justify it to yourself."

Tim shrugged, clearly unwilling to agree or disagree.

"Honestly, Tim, it surprises me, but it's almost a relief."

"Why?" Tim asked. "Canned tomatoes?"

"Those went in at the beginning."

"I'm surprised it's not fresh tomatoes," Tim said.

"Nope. Good canned tomatoes are very common in Italian cooking," Tony said, stirring and tasting. "And why it's surprising is because I wouldn't have pegged you as someone who would even tap a toe over the line, let alone what you seem to be saying you've done."

"It's... something I'm good at," Tim said, shifting around a little. "I'm really good at it."

"How good?" Tony asked, looking up from his sauce again.

Suddenly, Tim's grin was so mischievous that Tony was even more surprised. All this hesitancy and wariness and suddenly it was gone like it had never been there.

"You've never met a better hacker than I am," he said. And he wasn't bragging either. Tony could see it. He was stating a fact.

"Huh," Tony said, unsure of how to take it.

"...but luckily for the world around me, I have a conscience."

Then, Tony couldn't help but laugh, even as he saw that there was a degree to which Tim meant it. And if he was as good as he said he was, it was probably true.

"Man, there's a lot of garlic in this, isn't there."

"Four cloves," Tony said. "I like a garlicky sauce."

"What are those little tiny shriveled peas?"

Tony chuckled again. "Capers."

"I've read the word before, but I don't know what they are," Tim admitted.

"Pickled flower buds from the caper bush. Native to the Mediterranean."

"Huh." Tim didn't seem impressed.

"You'll love it, Tim. Just you wait."

"I'm already waiting."

"Wait a little longer. You can't rush perfection."

"I'd like to," Tim said. "I haven't eaten all day."

"That's your fault. I had lunch."

"That doesn't help _me_."

"Here, try a caper," Tony said, holding out the jar.

Tim took one and Tony watched, grinning, as Tim ate it and then his nose crinkled up.

"That's salty!"

"That's why you don't usually eat them alone."

"Then, why in the world did you give me one?" Tim asked.

"So you'd stop complaining."

"Didn't help. My mouth is full of salt."

Tim got up and walked over to the sink. Tony watched as he put his mouth directly under the tap and got a drink.

"I do have glasses, Tim."

"Sorry. Desperate measures."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I did rinse off the ones I put in the sauce."

"I hope so," Tim said as he resumed his seat at the counter. "Blech."

Finally, the sauce was finished and Tony turned his attention to the pasta. He put it in the water and watched it carefully. Freshly-made pasta cooked a lot faster than dried pasta. After that, he quickly drained it and put it into the sauce and then tossed it all together.

"Okay, it's ready. Have a seat at the table," Tony said.

"Need any help?"

"You can get the wine."

"White or red?"

"Which do you want?"

"I like white better."

"Okay. I have Greco."

"All right."

Tim got the wine and poured it while Tony served out the pasta and the bread.

Then, Tony watched intently as Tim took his first bite. Tim looked at him, with the fork halfway up to his mouth.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making sure you like it."

"Well, stop it. You're making me nervous."

"You say that like it's a surprise. Just try it!"

"Not with you staring at me like that. At least blink a couple of times."

Tony smiled and blinked very slowly. Twice. Tim rolled his eyes and took a bite. He chewed, and Tony could tell he was deliberately not showing anything.

"Well?" he asked. "Do you like it?"

"It's good."

"That's it? I make you puttanesca and all you can say is that it's good?"

"Did you want me to say it's bad?" Tim asked, smiling.

"Ha. No. I want you to say it was stupendous."

"It was stupendous," Tim said in a monotone.

Tony laughed and while Tim tried to hold it back, he couldn't and he started laughing, too.

"It's really good, Tony. I've never had puttanesca before so I can't compare it with anything else, but it's good. I like it."

"You'd better. After all, we're celebrating your success, so you'd better be satisfied."

"I'd be satisfied with Chef Boyardee at this point," Tim said.

"Abomination," Tony said, with mock horror.

"I thought you'd feel that way."

Tony could see that it would take a little bit of adjustment to get used to Tim's style of humor. It was a lot more subtle and sneaky than Tony's was, but it was fun, too.

He stuck out his tongue and then, they went back to eating. After finishing the main meal, Tony got the tartufo out of the freezer and served it. It was delicious (it was difficult to go wrong with ice cream), and then, all that remained was the clean up. Tim tried to help, but Tony wouldn't let him and he turned to put the dishes in the sink.

"Tony?"

Tim's tone had changed and Tony turned back to see Tim looking very serious.

"What?"

"Thank you."

"I'm getting the feeling that you don't mean the pasta."

Tim smiled a little. "Well, that, too, but no."

"For what, then?"

"I think the best thing that happened to me in this last year was you being suspicious of me at that party. I'd been stuck in that prison for so long that I couldn't even imagine really getting out of it again. I'm still needing to work on it, but I feel so much better than I did... It's like night and day. It's like I've been given my life back."

Tony felt a little uncomfortable with the high praise, even as it was bracing to know that Tim really did appreciate it. He smiled.

"Hey, what are friends for?"

"I never thought we would be," Tim said. "But I'm glad we are."

"Back at you, Tim," Tony said. "Now, you can go home and bask in your success and I'll put these dishes in the dishwasher and go to bed."

"You sure you don't need any help?"

"Nope. I've got this. Go on. Congratulations."

"Thanks. For everything."

"You're welcome."

Tim left and Tony grinned.

It was always nice to have another friend.

He turned back to the dishes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stepped into his apartment and walked to the window. He looked out over the Inner Harbor, savoring the beauty of the view and the knowledge that he'd be able to keep looking at it. He had his life back. His home was no longer his prison.

...and somehow, he'd gained a friend in the process.

He smiled. He'd never have guessed that the chance meeting would have led to his freedom, but he'd never regret it.

Finally, he went back into his bedroom and got ready for bed.

A good end to the day.

FINIS!


End file.
